


Colonel Fitzwilliam Interferes

by LissaMU



Series: Colonel Fitzwilliam Interferes [1]
Category: Pride and Prejudice (1995), Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bittersweet, Colonel Fitzwilliam loves Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy/Elizabeth endgame, Elizabeth Bennet loves Colonel Fitzwilliam, Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Melodrama, a tiny bit of physical infidelity as well, but also eventually falls in love with Darcy, canon divergence from Rosings Park visit, explicit Elizabeth/Colonel Fitzwilliam, major character death NOT DARCY OR ELIZABETH, this causes some difficulties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-24
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2020-09-25 09:33:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20374561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LissaMU/pseuds/LissaMU
Summary: An unexpected proposal from Colonel Fitzwilliam changes Elizabeth Bennet's life and throws Fitzwilliam Darcy into turmoil.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Contains some spoilers (which are already in the tags anyway)
> 
> The vast majority of my writing is happy, smutty fluff that makes everything happier faster and with more sex. My memories of how this story came about are fuzzy, but I think it went something like this. Back in the day, when I wrote Colonel Fitzwilliam Lends a Hand, there was some discussion in the fandom about whether Colonel Fitzwilliam fancied Elizabeth for himself, and how this may have affected things if he either hadn't been a younger son or had decided that it didn't matter and gone for it anyway. I thought this was an intriguing premise and began to write how things might have gone if he'd interfered instead of lending a hand. What resulted was this piece of Regency romance melodrama that still makes me cackle evilly when I remember the comments of suffering my readers gave me as I was posting. I guess I can understand why some people write angst XD I have previously been told that this fic is 'infamous' in the fandom (at least among the 1995 BBC adaptation set), and my mother still hasn't forgiven me for writing it.
> 
> Have no fear, although things get romantic and steamy between Lizzy and the Colonel, Lizzy and Darcy always have been and always will be my OTP, so they are 100% endgame no matter what pain we all have to go through to get there.
> 
> Although I wouldn't even know how to get in touch to thank them these days, this fic was strongly influenced by Abigail and Alison, so a big thank you to them wherever they are.

The unusually warm April night was not exactly the reason that one would find a certain handsome gentleman lying naked on the big four-poster bed in his chamber at Rosings Park. No, the perspiration on his brow was there for another reason entirely. He sat up, looking longingly at the woman standing at the end of the bed. She still wore a nightgown, but not for long; as he watched, she slipped it over her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the moonlight as she climbed onto the bed and made her way towards him on her hands and knees.

'Oh God, Elizabeth, I am so glad you have come to me!' he cried out as he pulled her to him. She returned his ardent kiss, allowing her hand to wander lightly over his chest and down to his still-growing manhood.

'I could not stay away,' she gasped between lip locks. He made her lie on her back and proceeded to move his way down as he discovered her body with his hands and lips. When he reached her chest, he made sure that both breasts received equal and thorough treatment. He teased the hard tips with his tongue, making her shiver with excitement. Unconsciously, she parted her legs slightly, and he took full advantage to place a hand gently between her thighs. He could feel her wetness and longed to be completely immersed in her. Continuing to move down, he utterly shocked her when his mouth joined his hands, and he caressed with not only his fingers, but his tongue as well. She grabbed the nearest pillow and covered her face with it to keep from waking the entire household with her cries of pleasure.

Sensing that she was near the edge, her lover suddenly stopped his actions, much to her chagrin. The disappointment was immediately eradicated, however, when he entered her a moment later. With slow, determined strokes, he began a rhythm that she soon joined, and it was not long before they both reached sweet oblivion.

'I love you, Elizabeth,' he whispered, his eyes still shut tight. When he opened them, he saw that he was alone once more, and the only release that had taken place had been of his own doing. He sighed in frustration; since he had first set eyes on Elizabeth, he had performed this little ritual, and each time it was a greater disappointment to open his eyes and not see her there. 'There is only one cure for this,' he said to himself as he prepared himself for bed once more. 'I must have her as my wife. All other concerns are inconsequential… I love her too dearly to let her go.' With this resolution, Colonel Fitzwilliam at last went to sleep.

**********

_Mmm, I love how her breasts rise and fall when she breaths… oh Lord, she is bending over to pick the flower… not a disappointment from that view either_…

Elizabeth handed him the flower with a smile. 'Here you are, Colonel Fitzwilliam. But I am quite certain that this particular flower is a weed; I do not quite understand why it is your favourite,' she said, shaking her head.

'I like things that are a bit wild and unpretentious,' he said with a grin.

Elizabeth blushed at this obvious comparison to herself. 'That is all very good, but make sure you do not take that with you to plant elsewhere. It is likely to take over and you shall never be rid of it!'

He stepped a bit closer and replied with a very serious tone of voice, 'You assume that I do not wish that.' Again, Elizabeth blushed deeply, then stepped away and changed the subject. Eventually they began to speak of Kent, and then of Darcy.

'I do not know anybody who seems more to enjoy the power of doing what he likes than Mr Darcy,' he heard Elizabeth say. He was not quite sure what she was referring to, as he had been too busy watching a wayward curl brush her cheek in a most delightful way to pay as much attention to her words. He could at least reply to this, though, for no matter the context, it was a true statement.

'He likes to have his own way very well,' replied Colonel Fitzwilliam. 'But so we all do. It is only that he has better means of having it than many others, because he is rich, and many others are poor. I speak feelingly. A younger son, you know, must be inured to self-denial and dependence.'

'In my opinion, the younger son of an Earl can know very little of either. Now, seriously, what have you ever known of self-denial and dependence? When have you been prevented by want of money from going wherever you chose, or procuring anything you had a fancy for?'

'These are home questions- and perhaps I cannot say that I have experienced many hardships of that nature. But in matters of greater weight, I may suffer from the want of money. Younger sons cannot marry where they like.'

'Unless where they like women of fortune, which I think they very often do.'

'Our habits of expense make us too dependent, and there are not many in my rank of life who can afford to marry without some attention to money.' Fitzwilliam coloured slightly, regretting his words and cursing himself for stating what she might see as a rebuff. He wished to marry her regardless of her wealth and connections (or lack thereof).

Elizabeth herself blushed at this statement but recovered quickly enough and made light of it soon after. They continued their walk amiably, with the topic straying first to Georgiana (a topic he quickly sidestepped), and then to Darcy’s friend Bingley. He casually mentioned to Elizabeth what he had heard of Darcy saving Bingley from an imprudent marriage, but almost as soon as he had said it, he wished he could take it back. She suddenly became quite agitated and claimed a headache.

_Heavens, I hope she is not the lady in question! If so, Darcy is a fool for thinking her unworthy, and Bingley is a fool for letting her go!_ They soon reached the parsonage, where she quickly took her leave. He bowed and returned to Rosings feeling some confusion over how to proceed.

**********

Pleading a headache, Elizabeth managed to convince Mr Collins, Charlotte and Maria to go to Rosings without her. When they were gone, Elizabeth, as if intending to exasperate herself as much as possible against Mr Darcy, chose for her employment the examination of all the letters which Jane had written to her since her being in Kent. They contained no actual complaint, nor was there any revival of past occurrences, or any communication of present suffering. But in all, and in almost every line of each, there was a want of that cheerfulness which had been used to characterise her style, and which, proceeding from the serenity of a mind at ease with itself and kindly disposed towards everyone, had been scarcely ever clouded.

Elizabeth noticed every sentence conveying the idea of uneasiness, with an attention which it had hardly received on the first perusal. Mr Darcy's shameful boast of what misery he had been able to inflict, gave her a keener sense of her sister's sufferings. It was some consolation to think that his visit to Rosings was to end on the day after the next- and, a still greater, that in less than a fortnight she should herself be with Jane again, and enabled to contribute to the recovery of her spirits, by all that affection could do.

She could not think of Darcy's leaving Kent without remembering that his cousin was to go with him; but Colonel Fitzwilliam had made it clear that he had no intentions at all, and agreeable as he was, she did not mean to be unhappy about him.

While settling this point, she was suddenly roused by the sound of the doorbell, and her spirits were a little fluttered by the idea of its being Colonel Fitzwilliam himself, who had once before called late in the evening, and might now come to enquire particularly after her.

She was not disappointed, for moments later, in walked the Colonel. He bowed and in an hurried manner he immediately began an enquiry after her health, imputing his visit to a wish of hearing that she were better. She smiled and said that she did feel much improved and had merely been reading through some old letters. He seemed somewhat agitated, and she was unsure of how to react to him. She invited him to sit down and set the example by sitting down herself. He paced around the room a bit more, sat down briefly, then rose again. He looked at her from across the room for several seconds, then took a deep breath and approached her.

'Miss Bennet, do you recall that this afternoon I said to you that the second son of an earl cannot marry where he likes? That our habits make us too dependent to marry without some attention to money?' Elizabeth blushed; did he think her headache was caused by disappointment over him?

'I do, sir,' she replied bemusedly. He studied her carefully, then suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her and took her hand.

'I have been trying to convince myself of the truth of that statement since I first met you. However, with each passing day, I find it more difficult to choose a life of luxury in a marriage of convenience over a life of happiness in a marriage of true affection. When I am near you, I get a glimpse of what my life could be with you by my side, and the strength of my feelings for you has overcome every objection. I cannot offer you our own estate in the country, a townhouse and carriages, but I can offer you an old and honourable name, the comforts of my family, and my undying devotion. Miss Bennet… Elizabeth, please be my wife.' This was a surprise indeed to Elizabeth, who had already prepared herself to forget him. She looked down at his handsome face, a look of apprehension giving it an irresistible charm. Before opening her mouth to reply, she examined her heart.

She could not say that she loved him, for she had known him only a fortnight, and was not so disposed to romantic notions that she let her fancy overtake her in so short a time. However, she did feel very warmly towards him; she was certainly quite attracted to him, and they did complement each other well. They had a friendship, which at the very least would make a life with him more tolerable than what she had seen with her parents or the Collinses. Could not friendship lead to love?

And then there were more material concerns; as much as she hated to admit it, Mr Collins was right: she may never receive another proposal. If she married into such a noble line, the chances of her sisters finding husbands were greatly increased, and perhaps Darcy would even allow Bingley to return to Jane, who would be his own cousin by marriage. Still, she felt a nagging feeling, as if something were missing. The question was, would the benefits of this marriage balance or outweigh that one negative? She considered Fitzwilliam’s good qualities and realised that she would be a great fool to refuse him. She took a deep breath and spoke.

'Colonel Fitzwilliam, I thank you for your proposal and would be happy to accept your hand.'

He closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. Her long silence had worried him, but he had been rewarded by the answer he wished to hear above all things. Smiling, he fervently kissed her hands.

'Thank you, Elizabeth! You have made me the happiest of men!' He rose to his feet and lifted her up with him. 'I go to London in two days, but when you return to Hertfordshire, I will follow you and apply to your father, if that meets your approval.' She consented to the plan, and he gave her the direction for Darcy’s townhouse, where he would be staying, so she could write to inform him of her arrival at Longbourn. For the sake of propriety, he left soon after, but not without first giving her a lingering kiss to seal the engagement. It left her with a light head and a shy smile long after the door had closed behind him. Any concerns momentarily forgotten, she sat down to write a joyful letter to Jane.

**********

Fitzwilliam mounted his horse and galloped all the way back to Rosings with a smile stuck on his face. When he reached the stables, he gave the horse over to one of the hands (I say one, for there were several) and whistled his way to the library where he knew he would find Darcy. Sure enough, his cousin was there hiding from his Aunt’s attentions and Mr Collins’ idiocy. Darcy looked up and saw Fitzwilliam looking almost Bingley-like the way he was smiling foolishly. _Oh Lord, what has he done this time?_ he groaned inwardly, thinking of Fitzwilliam’s many practical jokes of the past.

'You seem bursting to tell me something Fitzwilliam,' he said dryly. 'May I ask what it is?'

Fitzwilliam smiled even more widely and slapped Darcy on the shoulder. 'I will tell you what you can do, Darcy. You can congratulate me; I am engaged to be married!'

Darcy nearly choked on his brandy. 'And who is the lucky lady?' he asked cautiously, fearful of the response. He had noticed the direction of his cousin’s attentions.

'Miss Elizabeth Bennet!' Fitzwilliam replied joyfully. Darcy’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, and he thought sure that he would be ill. Quickly, though, the nausea turned to anger, and then rage, and before he knew what he was doing, his fist connected with Colonel Fitzwilliam’s nose.

'What the-? What do you think you are doing, man?' Fitzwilliam yelled.

Darcy stared at his own fist with an open mouth. 'I… I am sorry. I do not know what came over me,' he replied in a daze. The anger was gone, and in its place was a look of pain and frustration. Fitzwilliam remembered his earlier suspicion about Elizabeth and Bingley.

'Was it she you separated from Bingley?'

Darcy’s head snapped up. 'What?' he barked. 'Do not be absurd.'

'But you do think her unworthy of me.'

'She is a very worthy woman,' he admitted. 'But you are the son of an Earl, and she is the daughter of a minor country gentleman with low connections and no money. Her father’s estate is entailed away onto Mr Collins, did you know that?'

Fitzwilliam’s lips twitched but he showed no other sign of being perturbed. 'Have I shown myself to be so mercenary as to want her for her fortune? Aunt Catherine has made it more than clear that she is ‘nobody’. The fact had not escaped my attention, Darcy.'

'She is a simple country girl, Fitzwilliam, not one of your rich widows. What sort of life do you expect to lead as a married man? Do you think Elizabeth… Miss Bennet will happily let you continue your affairs?' Darcy prayed his cousin had not noticed the slip.

'I see. You think I am some philanderer… You do not think _me_ worthy of _her_.' he replied angrily.

'No man is worthy of her but…' he bit his tongue, humiliated by his momentary loss of control.

'But _you_, perhaps? What, were you hoping to save her for yourself? And what were your intentions, Darcy? Were you planning to defy Lady Catherine and wed Elizabeth?'

Darcy grimaced but offered no answers. 'Excuse me,' he growled, and with that, hurriedly left the room.

Fitzwilliam shook his head sadly. 'You will forgive me Darcy… but this time I will not place others ahead of myself. This time I will act in a manner that will constitute _my_ happiness!'

Darcy, meanwhile, was already in his chamber thrashing everything in sight. _How DARE he? Elizabeth is MINE, I was to propose to her, WE are to live happily ever after! She is meant to be MY wife! Not his… not his…_ For the first time since his father’s death, Fitzwilliam Darcy wept.

**********

The following day brought Colonel Fitzwilliam back to the parsonage to visit Elizabeth, but unlike his usual habit, he did not bring Darcy with him. This was soon explained by the news that his cousin had left suddenly for town, an urgent matter of business having come to his attention. Elizabeth thought it strange but did not care to dwell on it since Mr Darcy’s absence was a welcome relief to her. Fitzwilliam seemed somewhat more serious than usual, so Elizabeth proposed a walk to try to discover why he seemed so unlike himself. He accepted, and the two of them headed towards the grove, her hand on his arm. When he placed his other hand atop hers, she felt a tingle down her spine.

'You seem out of spirits today, sir,' she said light-heartedly. 'I hope you are not displeased with your company.'

He smiled warmly at her. 'You know very well that the company is more than pleasing,' he replied. 'I just have a few things on my mind, that is all.' He seemed hesitant to speak, so she did not pry further, but soon he broke his silence again. 'I do not quite know how to ask this, Elizabeth, but I must… were you expecting a proposal from my cousin?'

Elizabeth coloured and looked at him confusedly. 'Mr Darcy? Why would you think I expected a proposal from Mr Darcy?'

'He did not seem pleased when I shared the news of our engagement. I was afraid that perhaps I had breached a previous understanding between you.'

Elizabeth laughed at the absurdity of it. 'I am certain that his displeasure was of a different sort entirely, sir. He does not think highly of my family and position in society, and after having worked so hard to separate his friend Bingley from my sister, it must have been quite distasteful to him to discover that he will soon be related to a lowly Bennet.'

An embarrassed blush covered Fitzwilliam’s cheeks. 'You mean… yesterday, when I told you of Darcy’s… that was your sister? I am terribly sorry for having spoken so lightly of it! I see now why it upset you so!'

She placed a reassuring hand on his arm. 'Do not concern yourself over it, sir. I already had reason enough to think ill of your cousin; this merely fuelled the fire. As I told you when we first met, Colonel Fitzwilliam-'

'Richard,' he corrected.

'Richard,' she blushed, 'Mr Darcy and I are not the best of friends.' He smiled and changed the subject.

_She seems to find him quite intolerable! It is not as if I am disrupting one of history’s great love stories!_ Content, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the company of his future bride.


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy was in a state of turmoil such as he had never felt. It had been difficult enough to contend with his feelings for Elizabeth Bennet; he had just come to terms with the fact that he could not live without her, and now he found himself in that exact position. His cousin was going to marry her. She had accepted him. It was unbearable, absolutely unbearable. He tried to tell himself that it was better this way, that she was below him, utterly unsuitable in her connections, but as always, those rational thoughts melted away at the thought of her bright eyes… her bright eyes that would now belong to Colonel Fitzwilliam. The envy was insufferable, and he forced himself to stop thinking about her. He would conquer this!

A few days later, Colonel Fitzwilliam tore himself away from Elizabeth’s side to join Darcy in London. He was uncertain about his reception, but his cousin seemed calmer; perhaps more distant than usual, but at least not prone to sudden fits of violence.

'Darcy! I hope you are well,' he said tentatively. Darcy forced himself to stay calm and not stare at what appeared to be the lacy corner of a lady’s handkerchief sticking out of his cousin’s pocket.

'Quite. I trust you had a good journey?'

'As good as anything could be that takes me away from Lizzy,' he replied with a look of longing. 'The last few days have been like a dream; it was difficult to leave her, but the sooner I could begin to arrange my business affairs, the sooner we can marry!'

Darcy turned to pour himself a stiff brandy, oblivious of the early hour. 'How is Miss Bennet?' he asked hesitantly, partly from politeness and partly from curiosity. After the first few minutes of Fitzwilliam’s description of her beauty and virtues, he wished he had kept his peace.

'Oh, and her lips, Darcy… they are like rosebuds, soft and pink, so lovely! She allowed me to kiss her goodbye, and it was ecstasy! I am no innocent schoolboy, you know, but I felt as if it were the first time I had ever been properly kissed!' On and on he went, describing every sensation, from his arms around her soft curves to the feel of her breath on his cheek. Each moment that passed threatened to drive Darcy closer to madness. At last, when Fitzwilliam stopped for a moment to breathe, Darcy interrupted.

'Yes, well, as much as it enthrals me to hear about each moment that has passed since I saw you last, I believe I get the idea, Richard,' he said sternly, the use of his given name clearly implying that he would hear no more; the point was taken.

'I do apologise, Darcy! Here I am wittering on like a girl at her coming out ball, and I have not even told you why I am here!'

'And why _are_ you here?'

Fitzwilliam approached his cousin with a more serious expression on his face. 'Darcy, you know I value your friendship very highly, and I may even venture to say that you are my favourite relative. Would you do me the honour of standing up with me at my wedding?' Darcy blanched; _he_ stand up for Fitzwilliam at his wedding to Elizabeth? It seemed too cruel to be possible.

'Why I… had not… I thank you, yes,' he found himself saying, unable to think of a reason to say no.

Fitzwilliam slapped him on the shoulder. 'I knew I could count on you old man! Come, pour me a brandy as well; this calls for a little celebration!' With a heavy heart, Darcy poured the drink and toasted to the happiness of his rival and the woman he loved.

Elizabeth left Kent soon after Fitzwilliam, and upon her return discovered that she was the talk of the town. This came as no surprise, of course, but the congratulations were becoming quite fatiguing. Kitty and Lydia were green with envy when they learned she was to marry a colonel, and not just of the militia, but of the _regulars_, and would likely be surrounded by a whole camp full of soldiers at all times. The thought nearly drove them to fits, and they promised Elizabeth that wherever she lived, they would visit her quite frequently. Though touched by their obvious sisterly devotion, Elizabeth did not wish to talk of redcoats all day, and much preferred the company of Jane, who was still out of spirits despite the length of time that had passed since Bingley’s departure. The only thought that heartened her was that Colonel Fitzwilliam was to come into the country soon to speak with her father, who had already told her that he was planning to consent. Just two days after her return, her intended arrived as the ladies were sitting in the drawing room sewing and Mr Bennet was in the library.

'Colonel Fitzwilliam, ma’am,' introduced Hill with a hint of a flutter in her voice. He smiled and bowed, immediately causing Kitty, Lydia, and Mrs Bennet to swoon. Elizabeth, herself a bit affected by the sight of her charming fiancé, stood to greet and introduce him.

'Mama, Jane, Mary, Kitty, Lydia, this is Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam. Sir, these are my mother and sisters; my father is in the library.' He gallantly kissed her hand, then went around the room bestowing the same kindness on each Bennet lady.

'It is a pleasure to meet you; I have heard much of all of you,' he said as he sat down with Elizabeth by his side. His affability soon had them all won over, particularly Lydia, who had been inching her seat closer and closer from the moment he sat down. She and Kitty stared at him as though he were a god, even though on this particular occasion he had wisely taken Elizabeth’s advice that he not wear his regimentals. Jane was particularly content for Elizabeth’s sake, for Colonel Fitzwilliam obviously cared for her a great deal and would no doubt be a wonderful husband.

'Oh! Where are my manners?' Mrs Bennet cried shrilly at the first pause in conversation. 'I have not even rung for tea! Hill! Hill! Please bring the tea! Oh, and tell Mr Bennet to come meet Colonel Fitzwilliam, if you please!' Hill carried out her orders, and within only twenty minutes (for Fitzwilliam was obviously a guest of some importance and requiring early attention) Mr Bennet joined them for tea. The younger gentleman quickly stood to meet his future father-in-law.

'It is a pleasure to meet you, sir,' he said with a broad smile and vigorous handshake. 'Miss Elizabeth has told me so much of you that I have been anxious to make your acquaintance for some time.'

'The pleasure is mine, sir. Now, let us not waste each other’s time; I understand that you wish to speak to me about something particular, so why do we not retire to the library for a moment?' Fitzwilliam glanced quickly at Elizabeth over his shoulder before leaving the room, and she gave him an encouraging smile and nod. As soon as they were gone, the shrieks began.

'Oh Lizzy! You fortunate girl! You have caught yourself such a fine and highborn man! I am sure this will throw your sisters into the paths of other rich men!'

'He is the handsomest soldier I have ever seen! Imagine if he had worn his regimentals! I believe I would have died! Does he have any brothers?'

'Lizzy, you will not keep him all to yourself while he is here, will you? Kitty and I would like to speak to him too!'

'Will he not wear his regimentals to dinner?'

'Perhaps we could invite the officers and have a whole houseful of soldiers!' cried Lydia, Kitty, and Mrs Bennet (respectively) at the same time.

Elizabeth sighed and rolled her eyes. 'No, he has no unmarried brothers. No, he will not wear his regimentals while he is here.' This caused disappointment, but Mrs Bennet liked the idea of inviting the militia, and immediately bustled off to tell Hill to prepare for a large gathering the next day. Several minutes later, the gentlemen returned, Fitzwilliam looking relieved and Mr Bennet looking amused.

'Well, I suppose this will not come as a surprise to anyone, but all the same we will make it official. Lizzy, I have given Colonel Fitzwilliam my consent in his application for your hand. Congratulations, my dear,' Mr Bennet said, his eyes slightly misty as he kissed her forehead. Embraces, congratulations, and talk of weddings filled the rest of the afternoon at Longbourn.

The following day, Fitzwilliam awoke early in the hopes of inducing Elizabeth to a private morning walk. She was happy to oblige him, and arm in arm they walked toward the garden.

'I hope yesterday was not too overwhelming for you, sir,' she said with a laugh. 'I know my sisters can be very… persistent in their attentions.'

'I understand… I am a handsome devil, after all,' he joked. 'I am glad you warned me about not wearing my regimentals; I believe my life would have been in danger!'

'Ha! Just wait until this evening when the officers come. Poor Wickham and Denny have been putting up with this attention since October!'

Fitzwilliam suddenly stopped, a look of angry shock on his face. 'Did you say Wickham?' he asked tensely. She looked at him in confusion, then recalled that he was Darcy’s cousin, and was probably acquainted with Wickham.

'I did,' she said with a hint of defiance.

'This is not Mr George Wickham of Derbyshire, is it?'

'Yes, the same Mr Wickham who grew up at Pemberley. I know all about it,' she confirmed with a definite challenge in her voice.

Fitzwilliam looked slightly relieved. 'Ah, so Darcy told you the whole story?'

'No, indeed, I heard it from Mr Wickham himself.'

'Oh no,' he groaned. 'Please tell me you are joking.'

She put her hands on her hips indignantly. 'Why would I joke about that poor man’s misfortunes?'

Fitzwilliam looked at her in disbelief. 'His _misfortunes_? Yes, his _misfortunes_ have been great indeed!' he said mockingly.

'How can you treat his misfortunes with contempt and ridicule, when it was your cousin who reduced him to his present state of poverty?' she cried angrily.

'What? That is the most preposterous-! Elizabeth, have you ever spoken to Darcy about this?'

'Of course not! You know that would show a total want of propriety!'

'But it was proper of Wickham to tell you his tale?' he said with a raised eyebrow. Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but then she realised that he had a point. Wickham had only known her a very short while, yet he had revealed so much to her. Slightly humbled, she shook her head.

'I suppose not. But it only confirmed what I already thought of Mr Darcy, regardless of how appropriate it was for me to know it.'

'Oh Elizabeth… you do not know anything about it. If you will listen, I would be more than happy to tell you the true account.' Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously, but nodded her acquiescence. 'Mr Wickham is the son of a very respectable man, my late Uncle Darcy’s steward. We all played together as boys. However, as we got older, Wickham became more dissolute in his habits, taking up gambling, drinking, and especially womanizing. Darcy hid all this from his father, who was very fond of Wickham, as he did not wish to distress him. When my uncle died, he left the intention that a valuable family living should be his as soon as it was vacant. Mr Wickham, however, declined any interest in the church as a profession, and asked for, and was granted, the sum of £3000 instead of the living.' Elizabeth gasped. 'I believe he told Darcy that he intended to study the law. Ha! Breaking the law is more like it. How he lived over the next four years I know not, but last summer our paths crossed again under the most painful of circumstances.' His face grew dark with anger.

'My cousin Georgiana was taken from school to Ramsgate under the care of a Mrs Younge; unfortunately, we were deceived about her true character. She and Mr Wickham were friends, and he followed the ladies to the seaside with the intention of seducing Georgiana into an elopement. He made her believe that he loved her, and she was persuaded to believe herself in love with him. His object was her fortune of £30,000, and the fact that she was but 15 years old did not deter him at all.' Elizabeth’s eyes were now wide with shock, unsure of how to take this news, but knowing that it must be true. 'Fortunately, Darcy went to Ramsgate to surprise his sister only a few days before the intended elopement and was able to save her. Wickham left the place immediately, and Mrs Younge was dismissed. You will recall that I am her guardian along with Darcy, so he informed me of every detail of these affairs immediately after they were discovered. It was a difficult time, and poor Georgiana still has not recovered from the disappointment. She has a very trusting nature, and to have her heart broken at such an impressionable age has been terrible for her.'

Elizabeth was grave and silent, digesting the information he had just given her. The more she thought about it, the more fault she found with her own behaviour. Mr Wickham had flattered her, taken advantage of her attraction to him and her resentment towards Mr Darcy to spread his lies, and she had fallen right into the trap.

'I do not know what to say… this is shocking indeed. I feel like such a fool for believing him!'

Fitzwilliam stepped closer and put his arms around her. 'Do not berate yourself too much, my dear. We have all been deceived by him, even Darcy and myself.'

She leaned against him, enjoying the feel of his arms around her. 'Thank you for telling me, Richard. Do you think we should inform my general acquaintance of his vicious character?' He barely heard her, no longer interested in talking about Wickham.

'I do not think it necessary and would prefer to avoid it for Georgiana’s sake. He would not dare risk anything in my presence, and if the need arises, I shall know how to act.' She nodded in agreement. 'Now that we have cleared up that misunderstanding…' he began as he leaned down to kiss her cheek, 'perhaps we can talk of more pleasant things.' She looked up to smile at him, and he rewarded her with a lingering kiss. 'Mmm, yes, that is much better. This is my favourite topic of conversation.'

'Truly? I will be sure to tell my sisters! They will be happy to have this intelligence,' she said with a laugh.

'Allow me to rephrase that: this is my favourite topic of conversation with you and you alone!' he clarified before leaning in for another kiss. Elizabeth began to feel extremely warm despite the chilly early morning wind and could not resist putting her arms around his neck while eagerly reciprocating his kiss. Fitzwilliam found himself growing embarrassingly aroused but could not pull himself away from her. Instead, he pulled her closer, running his hands down her back and then her hips. Her willingness to allow him these liberties encouraged him to deepen the kiss, teasing his tongue between her lips until she admitted its entry and joined hers in a playful tug-of-war. She was quickly losing herself in his charms but was hardly in a state of mind to care. It was not until he brought his hand up to the curve of her breast and brushed his fingertips across her nipples that she realised the danger they were in. With an ashamed blush, she hurriedly pulled away from him. Bereft of her mind-clouding kisses, he was suddenly cognisant of what he had been doing and why she had pulled away.

'Perhaps we should return to the house sir. We have been gone a long time,' Elizabeth said in a shaky voice. _How could I have allowed such liberties? What must he think of my morals?_ she silently berated herself.

Fitzwilliam walked to her and kissed her hair. 'Please forgive me Elizabeth. I had no intention of taking such advantage of you. I was carried away by my desire, and I apologise,' he whispered apprehensively. _How could I have been such a fool? She must think me a cad_! Still she said nothing. 'Elizabeth, please do not think I act this way always. I know I went too far, but we _are_ engaged,' he reminded her.

'That is true, sir. I am more upset with myself for allowing such behaviour. You must think you are marrying a harlot!' Her words were spoken lightly, but he could tell that her feelings were likely to be in the same vein.

He shook his head and hugged her. 'I think I am marrying the most wonderful lady I have ever met, and I am very fortunate that she trusts me enough to allow me to release a little of my desire when we have a moment alone,' he corrected. 'Unfortunately, libertine that I am, I have taken advantage of her trust, and am deeply sorry for it.'

'Now you are exaggerating, Colonel Fitzwilliam!' she scolded, the teasing tone back in her voice.

He lifted her chin up with his fingers and shook his head. 'You are a slow learner, my heart. My name is Richard.'

She blushed but held his gaze. 'Richard.' He smiled broadly at the pleasure of hearing her address him so intimately, but as much as he wanted to reward her with a kiss, he knew his control would be in danger if he did. Instead he kissed her forehead and made her rest her head against his chest. 'Richard,' she said after a few moments of contented silence.

'Hmm?'

'Would it be terrible of me to have enjoyed it?' It took him a second to grasp her meaning. She obviously had no idea how arousing this innocent question was to him; he loved knowing that she had enjoyed his caresses.

'Would you like the answer from _Fordyce’s Sermons_ or _Richard Fitzwilliam’s Book of Dearest Hopes_?' he teased.

'The latter if you please,' she replied saucily. 'I am not marrying Mr Fordyce, so his opinions are not so important to me.'

He kissed her lightly. 'You enjoying it, my love, is quite near the top of the list of dearest hopes.'

She looked at him shyly, but with a hint of naughtiness sparkling in her eyes. 'Then you would not be terribly shocked if I asked you to do it again?' she inquired, running a fingertip along his lower lip. He replied with a vigorous kiss to signal his approval. Not as shy anymore, he brought his hand up to her chest again, this time with deliberation. He cupped one full breast, making little circles on the tips with his thumb. Elizabeth arched her back to show her appreciation of his attentions and sighed deeply with pleasure when he finally released her mouth to kiss her neck. 'Oh Richard,' she murmured, bending her neck to allow him greater access.

'I love you, my dearest,' he breathed between kisses. 'I want you so badly… you are so beautiful!' Elizabeth brought his head back up and attacked his mouth with her own.

'Lizzy! Lizzy, are you out here? Mama needs you, the officers are to come today!' came Lydia’s voice from afar. Fitzwilliam quickly but reluctantly released Elizabeth from his embrace. Her face was flushed and her eyes dark with desire, but she managed to smooth her dress and hair well enough to be presentable and not arouse suspicion.

'Yes, Lydia, I shall be there presently!' she called back. 'Shall we sir?' He nodded and offered his arm to his lovely betrothed and stole one last kiss before they walked back to the house.

The officers arrived at Longbourn that afternoon, and to Elizabeth’s surprise, Wickham was among them. She had thought that he surely would not dare show his face with Colonel Fitzwilliam about. It quickly became evident, however, that he was unaware of the circumstance.

'Miss Bennet! I am so happy to see you!' he said, exuding charm and kissing her hand in greeting. 'I have been in town this last week and returned but an hour ago. I scarce had time to dress for this fine assemblage!'

Elizabeth forced a smile but pulled her hand away. 'I hope you had a good journey,' she said blandly.

'I did. But enough of that! I wish to hear about your visit to Mrs Collins. How did you find Kent?'

Elizabeth grinned. 'Very interesting. Lady Catherine is a very… strong woman.' Wickham laughed.

'I have heard much about her strength. I hope you did not lack for amusement though.'

'No indeed! Colonel Fitzwilliam was there with Mr Darcy. Are you at all acquainted with the colonel?' she asked, struggling to hide her amusement.

Wickham looked uncomfortable. 'To some extent, yes, in former years. A very gentlemanly man. How did you like him?'

Elizabeth could no longer contain her laughter. 'I suppose you could say I liked him very well indeed; we are engaged to be married!'

Wickham could not disguise his shock. 'I… Well, I suppose congratulations are in order!' he said with a forced smile.

'Thank you, Mr Wickham. Ah, there is Richard! If you will excuse me,' she said archly, and walked to where the colonel was waiting.

'Were you just speaking with Wickham, my dear?' he asked with a wary look in that gentleman’s direction.

'I was. It would seem that he has been in town and did not return until today, so he had not yet heard. He was most surprised, to say the least!' Fitzwilliam laughed.

'Perhaps I should go say hello,' he teased. Elizabeth slipped her hand through his arm.

'No, I think he has had enough of a shock for one day. Besides, you depart tomorrow, and I wish to keep you to myself today.'

He smiled down at her with an affectionate gaze. 'I love you, Elizabeth,' he whispered in her ear.

'Colonel Fitzwilliam! Have I congratulated you yet on carrying away the brightest jewel in the country?' Sir William cried out jovially, saving Elizabeth from having to reply.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay in posting this chapter, work has been very busy! I'll try to make up for it by posting the next chapter within the next few days.

Colonel Fitzwilliam left for London the next day with the promise that Elizabeth would soon follow to begin arranging her wedding trousseau. She was also to meet his mother and father, and together they would all set the date of the wedding. Fitzwilliam hoped to have the wedding in mid-May, before he had to re-join his regiment in the north. Elizabeth had at first seemed tentative about such a short engagement, but soon agreed to its logic. The arrangements were nearly complete; there was just one matter that still weighed on Fitzwilliam’s mind.

He had noticed Darcy’s strange mood when he had last been in town but had been so involved in his own emotions that he had given it only slight attention. With other matters now well in hand, he felt it necessary to clear the air with Darcy prior to the wedding, particularly if his cousin had any objections to the match. Darcy had certainly reacted very strongly when told of the engagement. Though Fitzwilliam was steadfast in his plan to marry Elizabeth, he did not wish for a breach, and if Darcy did not wish to stand up for him at the wedding, he would certainly understand. With trepidation, he rang the bell of Darcy’s townhouse.

'Hello, sir!' welcomed the butler. 'Is Mr Darcy expecting you?'

'No, this is an impulsive call,' Fitzwilliam replied. 'Is he at home?'

'I believe you will find him in the library, sir. Shall I announce you?'

'No, thank you, Reid, I shall announce myself.' The butler nodded and left Fitzwilliam to fend for himself. He entered the library directly without knocking. 'Darcy!' he cried out to the form that was hunched over at the desk busily writing. Darcy stood and whirled around.

'Fitzwilliam! What are you doing here?' he asked with a tired voice that matched his haggard face.

'I have come to speak to you. Good God, you look like the devil! What have you been doing to yourself?'

'Nothing… I have had a good deal of estate business, that is all.' Fitzwilliam knew his cousin well enough to realise that when Darcy threw himself into his work, there was a deeper trouble to blame. _I wonder if this is because of me… or rather, Elizabeth. I suppose I should just go to it_.

'Darcy,' Fitzwilliam said with a sigh, 'I asked you this when we were still at Rosings, but you never answered me and just ran back to town. It is important for me to know: were you intending to pay your addresses to Elizabeth?'

Darcy stiffened at this unexpected question. 'Does it matter? Are you afraid of competition?' he asked lightly, hoping to keep his cousin at bay.

Fitzwilliam persisted. 'It matters. Tell me,' he replied firmly.

Darcy sighed in a way that suggested irritation rather than sadness. 'I may have perhaps had a passing attraction for Miss Bennet,' he admitted. 'But it was trifling, and is quite done, I assure you. I could find no way to overcome the objections to the match as you have, and so did not let myself become attached.'

'Then you will still stand up for me at the wedding?'

'Of course, Fitzwilliam. I would not miss it,' Darcy replied, shaking his cousin’s hand with a forced smile. 'When do you plan to marry?'

'I hope by the third week of May.'

Darcy started. 'So soon?'

'I am afraid I must return to my regiment the first of June, and I certainly wish to be married before then. My father is to obtain a special license.'

'I see,' Darcy replied pensively. He had not counted on losing Elizabeth so soon. _Not that she has ever been mine…_ 'And where will you live?'

Fitzwilliam furrowed his brow. 'That is uncertain as of yet. It is only the enlisted men who keep their wives in the barracks; the officers generally take rooms or houses for their families, but I do not know what else is currently available in that neighbourhood. Amongst my other items of business in town, I had planned to call on my commanding officer and inquire about the possibilities.'

_You are marrying her and cannot even put a roof over her head?! Bad form Fitzwilliam! I could give her Pemberley… _'Is the encampment still in ----?'

'Yes, why?'

'I will make inquiries and see what I can find.'

Fitzwilliam’s eyes brightened. 'Thank you, Darcy! That will save me a good bit of time. How very kind of you.' Darcy waved him off, and they moved on to other subjects.

**********

Darcy retired that night with a heavy heart. When he worked diligently on estate business, he was able to forget the pain of losing Elizabeth, but his cousin’s visit had caused all of those emotions that had been buried to rise to the surface. For weeks he had been avoiding thinking about her, not even allowing himself to fantasise about her once he was in bed. Tonight, though, he was able to think of little else. With a resigned sigh, he decided that if he had to think of her at all, better to imagine her in a much more pleasant manner than as his cousin’s fiancée. Removing every stitch of clothing from his body, he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes.

'Fitzwilliam,' came the whisper of his dream Elizabeth, lying naked right by his side. _No, too reminiscent of Richard_. 'William,' she started again. His skin tingled with excitement. 'My love, may I stay in your bed tonight?' she asked demurely. Darcy looked into her eyes, those fine, fiery eyes he loved so well, and surrendered body and soul.

'That is the only place for you to be, my dearest Elizabeth,' he replied just before their lips met in a passionate embrace. 'I love you more than life itself!' he confessed.

'And I love you, William. You are the only man for me. Please, please take me!' _Hmm, no, too much like a cheap novel. My Elizabeth would never speak that way_. 'And I love you, William. Allow me to show you how much.' He nodded mutely, and Elizabeth began a torturous exploration of his skin with her fingertips. He moaned softly as she approached but never quite touched the most sensitive part of him.

'Please, Elizabeth, I beg you, do not torture me!' he cried out loud, speaking to the real Elizabeth as much as to the dream. Unfortunately, it was only the dream Elizabeth who obliged him, taking him fully in her hands and caressing him to a point of painful arousal. When it seemed he could take no more, he took over the position of power, and with one formidable thrust he was exactly where he wanted to be.

'Oh God! William, oh yes, please…' she cried out, her voice dissolving into an unintelligible murmur as he continued to plunge into her again and again. He almost wished that the release would not come, that time would be frozen in this image of him inside Elizabeth, her face a mask of pure pleasure. It was not to be, of course, and as he imagined that last push that brought them both over the edge in that delightful dream, in the bleak world of reality he found himself alone again. _Alone as I will always be_, he swore to himself, _for I will never marry if Elizabeth is not the bride…_

**********

Elizabeth arrived in London with more than a little trepidation. She was to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam’s parents on only her second day in town, and as one does not meet an earl and his wife every day, particularly when one was soon to be their daughter, she was rather nervous. Jane, who had accompanied her, attempted to calm her as best she could, but nothing was as soothing to Elizabeth as the discovery that Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam were nothing at all like his lordship’s formidable sister, and were exceedingly friendly and welcoming of her. Lady Fitzwilliam was particularly impressed with her son’s good taste, and began to see why he gave up marrying for fortune in favour of a marriage of obvious affection. After getting acquainted over an excellent dinner, the business of the wedding took over conversation. It was decided that they would be married from Longbourn on the 14th of May and tour the Lakes before returning to Fitzwilliam’s regiment.

When Fitzwilliam returned Elizabeth to her uncle’s that evening, she was feeling much better than she had before. She even felt that she was truly falling in love with her husband-to-be, which gave her great comfort. He stayed to chat briefly with her aunt and uncle, who discreetly left them a few minutes alone when he took his leave.

'I can hardly believe my good fortune,' he said as he stroked her cheek. 'In only a few weeks you shall be mine.' She smiled up at him with true affection, inducing him to lean down and kiss her ardently. Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck, kissing back with more eagerness than she had since their garden tryst. Fitzwilliam was relieved to be again in such favour and took it as encouragement to run his fingers along her arms in a tender caress. He at last pulled away for the sake of his composure. 'I do so love you, Elizabeth,' he whispered.

Elizabeth closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and replied, 'I love you too, Richard.' His joy at hearing her say those words at last was overflowing, and he could not control the impulse to pick her up and spin her around with glee. Her delightful laughter filled his ears and his heart, and he knew that he would be happy for the rest of his life.

The following day, Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam were to dine at Darcy’s house accompanied by Mr and Mrs Gardiner and Jane. Elizabeth was hardly satisfied by this, for although she was no longer deceived by Wickham’s tale, she did still think Mr Darcy to be a most proud and disagreeable man. Jane did not say much at all, but her anxiety over meeting with Mr Bingley’s friend was evident.

Darcy, meanwhile, was still wondering why in the world he had invited his cousin to dine with him, his fiancée’s entire family in tow. He would not only have to suffer through seeing his cousin and Elizabeth, but also have to spend an evening with Elizabeth’s relations from Cheapside. Shaking his head at his folly, he nonetheless realised that he could not take back the invitation, and so awaited them in dread until the bell rang to announce their arrival.

Their reception was just as Elizabeth had expected; Darcy was formal, of few words, and just as polite as the situation required but no more. He managed to hide his distaste at having his house so polluted by residents of Cheapside, but Elizabeth could tell he was uncomfortable by his aloof manner of address. All this only served to strengthen her opinion of him as the most unpleasant man of her acquaintance.

It was true that Darcy began the dinner determined to think ill of the Gardiners but found himself enjoying Mr Gardiner’s lively conversation and obvious intelligence and taste. They spoke of common interests such as fishing, and he found that for a city-dweller, Mr Gardiner was very knowledgeable on the subject. By the time the gentlemen had retired for port, Darcy was quite pleased with the opportunity to speak more with Elizabeth’s uncle. He was most displeased, however, with what he saw in Jane. Even he could not deny that she looked pale and tired, with a lost look in her eyes, as if she had seen great disappointment. His conscience began to nag at him when he considered that perhaps she was as broken-hearted as Bingley, and that he had been wrong to separate them. He quickly disregarded the thought, however, for no matter how pleasant her aunt and uncle may be, Mrs Bennet was still reason enough to keep Bingley away from Jane for good.

Though happy that Darcy seemed to accept her uncle despite his lowly station, Elizabeth was still bristling over his obvious discomfort each time he looked at Jane. It reminded her that he was at fault for breaking Jane’s heart, and this offence magnified every other one that she perceived in him. By the time the gentlemen returned, her temper was so raging that she asked Fitzwilliam to speak with her privately to vent her anger.

As Darcy looked around the room telling himself over and over again not to stare at Elizabeth, his eyes came to rest on that lady speaking to his cousin in what looked to be a very agitated manner. He knew that if he stood near the doorway of the next room, he would be able to hear what they were saying, but of course, this was highly improper. He tried to focus his attention on other things, but eventually his curiosity got the better of him, and he excused himself on the pretext of fetching a book on fishing from the library. He hastily grabbed the book, then went to listen in on Elizabeth’s conversation.

'I know he is your cousin, Richard, and I am sorry, but every time I have met him, his behaviour has only confirmed my dislike of him.' Darcy started. Was she speaking of _him_?

'Come, Elizabeth, Darcy is not as bad as you make him out to be,' Richard replied. 'He is just very reserved, and uncomfortable in social situations.' _Yes, yes, defend me Fitzwilliam!_

Elizabeth gave a short, bitter laugh. 'That may be true, but it is no excuse for the way he treats people. Did you know that before we were even introduced, he insulted me? Let us see, what were his exact words… ah yes, "She is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me." And this was in response to Mr Bingley simply suggesting that he ask me to dance as I was without a partner.' Darcy cringed, realizing that she had in fact heard him that night at the assembly. 'And speaking of Mr Bingley, how can I not hate the man who has been the means of ruining, perhaps forever, the happiness of a most beloved sister? You told me yourself that he took pride in having done it!' Darcy’s eyes widened with shocked anger; Fitzwilliam had told Elizabeth of his interference? 'And then there is his pride… I do not think I have ever met a man who is more conceited and with such a selfish disdain for the feelings of others!' Elizabeth’s voice was soft, but impassioned, and he could almost see her fine eyes blazing with fury as she spoke.

'I am very sorry that he has given you that impression. I promise you, Darcy is really a very generous, gentlemanly man.'

'Ha! If he is such a gentleman, he should not have behaved in such an ungentlemanlike manner on so many occasions!' Elizabeth had more to say, but he did not hear the rest of her words; the ones she had already spoken had cut him to the core. Did she really think so poorly of him? Elizabeth, the woman he admired so ardently, seemed to absolutely despise him! A pain greater than he had ever felt, greater even than at the news of his cousin’s engagement, seared his heart like a hot poker. The emotions were too much for him; he rushed back into the drawing room and thrust the book into Mr Gardiner’s hands, then excused himself claiming a matter of urgent business. He told Fitzwilliam to take over hosting duties and said he would return as soon as possible. The moment he stepped into the library, he broke down, torn apart by the realization that even if his cousin had not gotten there first, Elizabeth would never had been his.


	4. Chapter 4

The changes did not begin immediately, and even when they did, they were not noticeable at first. It began with small things: he thought more carefully on how his words and actions may affect the feelings of others; he was more polite with people who were not of his class and who did not work for him; his address softened. It was not easy for Darcy to come to terms with Elizabeth’s characterisation of him, but the more he thought on their acquaintance, the more credit he had to give her. He had never even paused to consider what others had thought of him, and it had cost him the good opinion of the person whose approval he most desired.

But that was the past. He knew now what needed to be done. He was determined to win her over, not for love, he knew it was too late for that, but at least for friendship; they were to be cousins after all. He shuddered at the thought of it. _Cousins…_ it seemed so ridiculous, so wrong, so _unnatural_ to call Elizabeth his cousin. Elizabeth Fitzwilliam was grating to his ears, while Elizabeth Darcy seemed to roll off his tongue. Still, he had long since lost any choice in the matter, and all he could do for her now was to make up for his past behaviour. He decided to start by correcting his most damaging mistake: the separation of Bingley and Jane.

A great sadness swept over him as he realised that he might lose his good friend because of his arrogant presumptions. Of course, he had done what he had thought best at the time, based on his observations of Jane’s countenance, but he could not deny that Elizabeth was a more reliable source on Jane’s feelings. His former arguments against her family’s place in society also could no longer stand, for was not her sister about to connect herself to his own family? The deficits of the marriage no longer outweighed the benefits, and he would now be hurting the poor fellow even more if he did not tell him the truth. He knocked on Bingley’s door fully aware that his friend could toss him out onto the street within a few minutes.

'Darcy! What a surprise! To what do I owe this pleasure?'

'I have a very important matter to discuss with you Bingley. May we speak in private?'

'Of course, come with me.' The gentlemen went to the library, but before Bingley could even offer him a drink, Darcy began his well-rehearsed apology.

'Bingley, I have done you a great wrong. Before I confess all to you, however, I wish you to know that I acted only in what I thought were your best interests. I have since learned that I was terribly wrong, and I apologise.' Bingley was now thoroughly confused, for he could not image anything in which Darcy may have ill-advised him. His questioning look encouraged Darcy to continue. 'When we left Hertfordshire, I told you that I thought Miss Bennet did not care for you.' Bingley paled at the mention of her name. 'I have since discovered that my assumption was incorrect.'

'What? But… how? Where? You were wrong?' Bingley jumped up, eyes wide.

'As you may have heard, her sister Miss Elizabeth is soon to marry my cousin.' Bingley nodded; the mention of Elizabeth’s name in the papers and clubs had most definitely made him take notice. 'It came to my attention that Miss Bennet has been… out of sorts since our departure, and she is in fact very much in love you.' Bingley’s eyes began to glow with a hope that had not been there in months. Darcy considered stopping at that, but he knew that the whole truth needed to be revealed. 'But there is more… Miss Bennet was in town for three months and your sisters and I concealed it from you. We thought you were not yet strong enough to see her and persuaded ourselves it was best not to tell you. It was very wrong of me, Bingley, and I apologise with all my heart.'

'You mean she was in town all those months and you concealed it from me?' Bingley repeated in anger. 'She must think I am a cad, to show her such attentions, then leave her without another word and never visit her when she was in town! How dare you! I am not a child!'

'I know that, Bingley, and I wish to make amends. Miss Bennet is at this moment in town with her sister helping her prepare for the wedding.'

'She… she is in town? Now?'

Darcy nodded. 'I was planning to call on them today. Would you care to join me?'

Bingley smiled widely, the anger gone, and embraced his friend. 'Thank you for telling me, Darcy! I shall prepare at once, and we can depart in a quarter of an hour!' This turned out to be a lie; Bingley was ready in under five minutes, and moments later they were on their way to Gracechurch Street. Darcy had to contain his laughter at the sight of Bingley fidgeting about like a schoolboy sitting through a tedious class. When the carriage finally stopped, Bingley jumped out with an 'At last!' and bounded towards the door. As he was about to ring the bell, he froze.

'Oh Darcy… what if she hates me after all this time of neglect? I do not deserve her!' he whined with a sudden attack of nervousness.

Darcy placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'Come, Bingley, I am certain that she will be happy to see you. She is of a very forgiving nature.'

Bingley smiled dreamily. 'Yes, she is an angel, is she not?' He stood up straight and gave a resolute nod. 'Very well. I shall ring the bell.' He extended his hand to do just that when the door swung open and Jane herself quickly stepped out, practically falling into Bingley’s arms. She had been looking back at Elizabeth at the time and had not even noticed the gentlemen until she had collided with them. Bingley was helpless; Jane was in his arms, and he was in no hurry to let her go. She looked up at him with embarrassment, and when she realised who it was, her mortification was complete. Much to his disappointment, she stepped away from him.

'Mr Bingley! P-please excuse me, sir,' she said with a shaky voice, and covering her mouth to stifle a sob, she ran back into the house.

Elizabeth gave Bingley an apologetic smile. 'I’m sorry, Mr Bingley, I’m afraid I called for Jane’s attention just before she opened the door, and she did not see you there. We were just on our way out for a walk. How do you do?' she said warmly, effectively hiding her shock, but not her pleasure, at seeing him on her uncle’s doorstep. She did not do as well when she turned her head and saw Mr Darcy standing beside him. Her brow furrowed in confusion. 'Mr Darcy, this is a surprise. Good day to you as well.'

He bowed crisply. 'Good day, Miss Bennet. I hope you are well. I was coming to call on you today and thought Bingley would like to renew his acquaintance with you and your sister as well,' he replied, making it quite clear that Bingley’s presence was his doing. She stared at him in surprise for a moment before turning her attention back to Bingley.

'We are very pleased to see you, Mr Bingley. It has been so long since we last met.'

'Indeed! We have not met since the twenty-sixth of November, when we were dancing together, at Netherfield,' Bingley replied, craning his neck to look behind Elizabeth into the house.

'I believe you must be right. Won’t you come in?' A glimpse of what could be fair hair inside had caught his eye, so it took him a moment to realise what she was saying.

'Hm? Oh, yes, thank you! But I must say, it is I who should be sorry, for I was in Ja… Miss Bennet’s way,' he stuttered. 'It is lovely to see you again, Miss Elizabeth. I hear that I am to congratulate you on your imminent marriage.'

Elizabeth smiled. 'Thank you, sir. Please, come in.' They followed her into the parlour, where a concerned Mrs Gardiner was waiting.

'Lizzy, what is the matter with Jane? She ran through here just a moment ago and…' she stopped when she realised that Elizabeth was not alone. 'Oh… hello.'

'Aunt, this is Mr Bingley, and you know Mr Darcy, of course.' Mrs Gardiner curtseyed, a look of understanding coming over her face. 'Gentlemen, please sit down. I shall just speak to Jane and return in a moment.' Mrs Gardiner sat down anxious to satisfy her curiosity about the famous Mr Bingley.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, went to Jane’s room, where the poor girl was crying into her pillow. The shock of seeing Mr Bingley again, combined with the embarrassing position in which she had found herself (the pleasantness of being in his arms notwithstanding) had caused her to break down after so many months of quiet despair.

'Jane, dear, won’t you come speak to Mr Bingley? He has come particularly to see you,' Elizabeth said soothingly. 'He apologises for what happened at the door.'

'He has nothing for which to apologise! I was the one who fell so clumsily onto him! Oh, what must he think of me?'

'He thinks you are the loveliest woman in the world, Jane. Come, let us freshen you up and go speak to Mr Bingley.' Jane nodded and allowed Elizabeth to dab her face with a wet washcloth. 'You are so fortunate, Jane! When you cry your countenance is only more glowing and angelic. Mine just becomes red and swollen!' Elizabeth teased. After a few moments more to gather her composure, Jane indicated her readiness to re-join the gentlemen. The instant she walked in the door, Bingley jumped to his feet and practically ran to her.

'Miss Bennet, I am so sorry for my clumsiness at the door. I do hope you are not hurt,' he said compassionately.

'No sir, I thank you, but you are not to blame. I am the one who did not pay attention and fell upon you. Please forgive me.' She still could not bring herself to look at his face, and her cheeks were a deep crimson. Bingley thought she had never looked more beautiful. Without realizing it, he took her hand and tenderly kissed it.

'You are an angel, Miss Bennet; there is nothing to forgive.' She looked up at him with teary eyes, her face completely betraying her emotions. Even Darcy could not deny that this woman was indeed very much in love. Bingley saw it too, and his heart leapt with a joy he had not felt in months. He smiled warmly at her, eliciting a smile in return. They merely gazed at each other for several moments, until Darcy cleared his throat to remind them that they were not alone.

'Shall we sit down, sir?' Jane asked quietly. Bingley nodded, and, never letting go of her hand, led her to a settee where they sat side by side. While Mrs Gardiner excused herself to see to the tea, leaving the young people to themselves for a few minutes, Darcy shook his head with amusement; the rest of the company would now be forgotten for the duration of their visit. He ventured a glance at Elizabeth and saw a becoming smile brightening her face as she looked at her sister and Bingley speaking quietly together. His heart caught in his throat in a desperate desire that she would one day smile on him this way. She seemed to realise that he was looking at her and turned in his direction. The look on her face belied her confusion.

'I believe Jane has you to thank for this visit, sir?' she whispered.

Darcy nodded. 'I do not like injustices, Miss Bennet, and there is nothing more unjust than to allow a friend to suffer, or to separate two people who are meant to be together.' Elizabeth felt a peculiar warmth at his words, but could not comprehend its meaning.

'I thank you, sir,' she replied, not quite knowing what to say. Darcy looked at her with an intensity that made her turn her eyes.

'I also do not like to make mistakes, and when I do make them, I try to rectify them immediately. It came to my attention that I was wrong in my actions, so this morning I paid Bingley a visit and told him the truth.' Elizabeth was astonished; he seemed to know that she was aware of his previous interference and was telling her that he had taken the information to heart. Not knowing what to say, she said nothing at all. Unnerved by her silence, Darcy spoke again as if desperate to get the words out. 'I am not a bad man, Miss Bennet. I make mistakes, but I am not bad. I know my behaviour towards you has been reproachable, but I hope to make amends.'

Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide at this unexpected declaration. _Did Richard tell him about our talk? _'I’m afraid I do not follow you, sir. Has… Has Richard spoken to you about this?' she asked warily. He grimaced slightly at her use of his cousin’s Christian name; it was so… intimate.

'I’m afraid I must confess to one more misdeed; the other evening I overhead some of your conversation with Fitzwilliam. I had not intended to hear it, but when I realised that you spoke of me, I had to hear it all. I am very sorry for invading your privacy but believe me when I say that I needed to hear it. I had no idea that I was so ill-liked and have striven to tend to the reproofs you so justly applied.'

Elizabeth was torn between anger at his eavesdropping and gratitude at his respect for her opinion and willingness to change his ways. Anger could not survive long, however, after seeing the look of utter contrition on his face. She smiled compassionately at him. 'Mr Darcy, I am sorry if my words offended you. I was frustrated that evening and let my mouth run wild. I thank you for being so generous with your forgiveness.'

'_My_ forgiveness? It is I who should be on my knees begging your forgiveness El… Miss Bennet!' he whispered passionately. 'I have been a selfish being all my life, but with time I hope to become worthy of your respect.'

She extended her hand with a smile. 'Let us not argue for the greater part of the blame, Mr Darcy. I have made my share of mistakes as well and would not wish for them to be held against me. Therefore, let us shake hands and be friends. We are to be family, after all.' Those last few words caused a slight churning in the pit of her stomach, but she brushed it off as nervousness about her wedding. Darcy paled slightly but took her hand with relief. Instead of shaking it, however, he raised it and ever so lightly brushed his lips against her soft skin. Elizabeth felt as if she had been hit by lightning; raging warmth coursed through her body, and her heart began to pound fiercely. She quickly withdrew her hand and stood. 'Please excuse me, I am going to help my aunt with the tea,' she sputtered, and quickly left the room.

Darcy’s heart was leaping with joy. The delights of kissing her hand were plentiful on their own, but her unmistakably favourable reaction had surpassed them a hundred-fold. She had felt it too, the incredible electricity between them, he was sure of it. _Perhaps it is not too late after all!_ he thought with new hope. Elizabeth re-entered the room with a plate of cucumber sandwiches, unable to look him in the eye. He was about to speak to her again when the housekeeper entered.

'Colonel Fitzwilliam to see you ma’am,' she curtseyed, and stepped aside to reveal the man himself. Darcy’s jaw tightened with jealousy as Elizabeth hurried to his side.

'Richard, I am so glad you came,' she whispered as he took her hands to kiss them. The difference between the feeling of his kiss and Darcy’s made Elizabeth uncomfortable, but she determined not to think on it.

'Hello, my love. I hope you are well. Darcy! What brings you here?' he cried to his cousin jovially. Darcy swallowed his bitterness and managed to mutter something about calling with Bingley. Fitzwilliam looked over at Bingley and Jane, who had not even seemed to notice his arrival. 'Ah, I see,' he chuckled. 'Hello Bingley, Miss Bennet!' he said with a wink to Elizabeth. The two lovers tore their eyes away from each other to see who had addressed them.

'Hello, Colonel Fitzwilliam, it is lovely to see you.'

'Fitzwilliam! How do you do? Er… have you been here long?' Bingley asked with embarrassment.

'No, not at all… certainly no more than half an hour,' he teased. 'No, no, I have only just arrived. I was hoping to claim my lovely fiancée for a walk in the park on this lovely day, as I have a few particular things to speak to her about. What do you say, my dear?' Elizabeth glanced quickly at Darcy before replying that she would be delighted, and they took their leave. Bingley and Jane quickly returned to their private conference, but Darcy could only sit there and curse his cousin for being one step ahead of him yet again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all your lovely comments on the last chapter! I'm not very good at interacting on them, but I read every one and they all warm my heart!

'Are you quite well, my dear? You seem a bit flustered,' Colonel Fitzwilliam asked Elizabeth once they had exited the house. Elizabeth blushed and shook her head.

'No, I am well. I am just surprised at the events of the last hour. It was most unexpected to open the door and see Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy there! I believe I am also a bit embarrassed, for Mr Darcy revealed to me that he overheard our conversation at his house the other night. Fortunately, he was kind enough to take my words in a way I never intended.'

'I’m afraid I do not follow you, Elizabeth… I thought your feelings were made very clear,' Fitzwilliam replied.

'Yes, indeed they were. But Mr Darcy is a peculiar sort of man, and instead of hating me, as any sensible man would do, he saw the merit of my arguments and has resolved to make amends; he began by bringing Mr Bingley to see Jane and apologised to me directly. I was not expecting such behaviour at all!' Fitzwilliam frowned slightly; he knew Darcy was honourable, but this was beyond anything he had ever seen in his cousin. It was admirable, yet worrisome at the same time.

'I am glad to hear it. It was about time Darcy heard that he is not all that is wonderful and good,' he joked. 'You, however,' he continued, kissing one of her hands, '_are_ all that is wonderful and good.' She smiled up at him with an affectionate gaze that eradicated all his fears. 'Oh my love, if only we were not in public!' he whispered, lightly brushing her cheek with his lips as he did so.

'Now sir, do not be greedy… we cannot have all our wishes come true at once,' she teased.

'Indeed. My dearest wish was already granted when you agreed to be my wife.'

She blushed sweetly. 'Now what are these particular things you wished to speak to me about, Richard?'

'Mmm, I love you when you say my name. Oh, yes, um, well, there is one very important detail that we forgot to settle when we spoke with my parents.'

'What is that?'

'Where we are to spend the wedding night.' Elizabeth’s blush deepened. 'No offence meant to your family my love, but I would rather not stay at Longbourn.'

'Oh heavens! No, of course not!' she agreed.

'Our other choices are my parents’ townhouse, Darcy’s townhouse, or an inn.' Elizabeth frowned with displeasure.

'I wish we did not have to be guests of anyone on our wedding night.' Fitzwilliam’s heart tightened.

'I am so sorry my dear, that I cannot provide a proper home for you yet,' he replied gravely. 'It tears me apart that I cannot give you all that you deserve.'

'Richard, do not do this,' Elizabeth said soothingly, placing her hand on his. 'I do not need nearly half of the things you wish you could give me,' she teased. 'Perhaps we could ask Mr Bingley to rent Netherfield to us for the wedding. I have a suspicion that he may soon wish to return to Hertfordshire anyway, and would not mind having the house opened.' Fitzwilliam smiled with relief.

'That is a capital idea! Let us return to your uncle’s and speak to him about it immediately!'

'You do realise that we have only been gone a few minutes. They may think we only left to steal some time alone,' she winked.

'Hmm… what a brilliant idea Lizzy! Come with me!' He grabbed her hand, leading her on a wild run through the small park, the two of them laughing like children. _This is why I am marrying this man_, Elizabeth said to herself. _We are of such like mind!_ At last he stopped under a little copse with a stone bench surrounded by rose bushes. The relative seclusion of this seat from the rest of the park made it particularly attractive to young lovers, and Elizabeth and the Colonel were but one couple in a long line of sweethearts to sit on this bench with amorous intentions. They sat side by side, Fitzwilliam immediately claiming her hands with his own and covering them with fervent kisses. 'I have longed to be alone with you again.'

'And I you,' she replied softly. 'I can scarcely believe that in only a few weeks we shall be married! It seems so soon!' Her statement would have worried him except that she smiled as she spoke, indicating happiness rather than fear.

'But to me it seems still too far away.' His fingers brushed against her cheek as he tucked a curl behind her ear, causing her to shiver. Thinking that she was cold, he pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. Just before leaning in for a kiss, he reminded her, 'I love you so very dearly.' With a smile, she surrendered to the infinite delights of his soft lips. He pulled her closer as she yielded to him, delighting in the feeling of her warm body pressed tightly against his.

'I believe I should be quite content to do this all day,' Elizabeth mused as he moved down to her jaw line.

'Soon you will… and all night too,' he whispered suggestively before once again recapturing her mouth. This statement again conjured images of the wedding night for both of them, though in very different ways. Elizabeth could not explicitly picture what would occur, but she was certain that if it were anything like his kisses and caresses, it would be lovely indeed.

For Fitzwilliam, it was much like his fantasy at Rosings the night before he proposed; Elizabeth, naked in his bed, fine eyes inviting him to ravish her in as many ways as he could imagine. Thoughts such as these did nothing to diminish the natural arousal he felt just from being near her, and he found himself again pushing the limits of propriety by creeping his hand up near the curve of her breast.

'May I?' he sighed, not wishing to embarrass or unnerve her as he had done the first time.

'Yes, please,' she replied, surprising even herself with her alacrity. He smiled before again challenging her tongue to a duel and cupping her breast tenderly. Elizabeth’s little moans of enjoyment drove him on, tempting him to try for more. He pulled away from her lips and began tracing a path down her neck with the tip of his tongue; that path took him down to her neckline, his mouth meeting his hand along the edge of the fabric. With the other hand, he began to caress her outer thigh, not quite so adventurous as to move in without Elizabeth’s explicit approval.

'Oh Lizzy, what you do to me!' he panted, unconsciously pressing his arousal against her leg. There was no question, she could definitely feel it, and as a vague understanding of what it was passed through her mind, she thought not of purity and virtue, but of… education.

'Richard… what will happen on our wedding night?' she asked innocently. He stopped his attentions and looked up at her.

'What do you mean?'

'I… I know that there are certain… duties of the marriage bed, but I have not yet discovered the details. Will you tell me what is going to take place?' She blushed furiously, afraid that he would find her too forward. On the contrary, though, he was becoming more aroused by the moment, and eager to tell her what they would be enjoying in only a few weeks. He eyed her hungrily and swallowed hard.

'How much detail do you want, love?' he asked in way that sounded much naughtier than he had intended, which caused her to blush even more deeply.

'Oh, I think a general explanation will do,' she replied vaguely. He took her hand and brushed her fingertips lightly over the bulge in his trousers.

'This,' he said quietly as she looked down at her hand with wide eyes, 'will enter you here,' he continued, passing his own hand lightly along her lap, 'and hopefully give both of us much pleasure.' Elizabeth inhaled sharply and sighed. Fitzwilliam released her hand, but she continued to touch him, noticing how he seemed to react to it, and also how the bulge seemed to be growing bigger still. _That will fit in me?_ she thought incredulously. The colonel, meanwhile, was certain he would go distracted if she continued these ministrations much longer, and yet he was loathe to stay her hand.

'Do you like this Richard?' she asked timidly, feeling a growing sense of power as his breathing grew shallow and quick.

'Oh Elizabeth, you have no idea how much you are pleasing me… but I must beg you to stop, I cannot hold back much longer.'

'Oh,' she said, pulling her hand away. 'Hold what back?' It was now his turn to blush. He scratched his head as he tried to figure out how to put it in a way that would not offend her sensibilities.

'Ah, well, you see… ahem, when a man becomes… no, um, for a woman to conceive, a man must… uh, provide her with…' She cut him off, finally grasping his meaning. She may not have known much about intimate relations, but as a country girl, she understood the mechanics of breeding.

'I understand. Thank you for explaining all this to me.' She once more ran her fingers along his length to show her appreciation, eliciting a slight shudder.

'It was my pleasure, dearest. I look forward to showing you all of the details very soon.' She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a sweet peck on the lips.

'I look forward to learning more,' she replied wickedly before attacking his lips with a firmer kiss.

After several more minutes of passionate embracing, followed by a short time to defluster, the happy couple returned to Gracechurch Street to speak to Mr Bingley. They found him speaking in hushed tones with Jane, and the two seemed very pleased with each other. Darcy was chatting amiably with Mrs Gardiner while, much to Elizabeth’s surprise, holding the youngest Gardiner child on his lap. Fitzwilliam had to call her name several times to revert her attention from gaping at Darcy.

'Ah, welcome back Lizzy, Colonel Fitzwilliam,' Mrs Gardiner greeted. 'Would you like some tea?'

'No thank you Mrs Gardiner. I would like to speak to Mr Bingley for a moment, though.' Upon hearing his name, Bingley turned towards him confusedly.

'Hmm? Oh, hello again Colonel. How was your walk? Er… you did go for a walk, yes?' he stammered.

'Yes, we did Bingley. I am sorry to tear you away from Miss Bennet’s delightful conversation, but I have a favour to ask of you. Miss Elizabeth and I were wondering if you would let us rent Netherfield from the fortnight before the wedding until we leave for the Lakes. I shall need a place to stay, of course, and we need a place to spend the wedding night as well.' Elizabeth blushed; Fitzwilliam smiled; Darcy felt nauseated. _The wedding night. Their wedding night. Elizabeth Bennet will become Mrs Fitzwilliam… oh God, I am going to be ill._

'Abigail, would you like to step outside for a moment?' he asked the child on his lap. 'I believe I need some air.' Little Abby nodded, and he declared their intention to stretch their legs outside. Elizabeth snuck a glance at them as they walked out hand in hand, he so tall and dignified, holding the tiny fingers of a little girl barely three feet tall. It was an endearing picture, and Elizabeth began to wonder just how deeply she had misjudged this man. Darcy breathed a sigh of relief when they stepped outside.

'You are a nice man, Mr Darcy,' Abigail declared. 'You are my friend.' He smiled widely at the girl.

'Thank you, Abigail. You are very nice as well, and I’m happy to be your friend.'

'Did you know that cousin Lizzy is getting married?' she asked as they strolled down the street. 'She’s going to marry Mr Colonel Fizz… Fizzli… Fizzmillion,' she stuttered. 'His name is hard to say. I like yours better.'

'Thank you. But my first name is also Fitzwilliam,' he informed her, at which she frowned.

'That is silly. You are very pretty. Mr Fizz… Lizzy’s going to be hubsband is pretty too, but I think you’re prettier.'

He laughed aloud at this judgment. 'Thank you, Abby! I think so too,' he winked. 'But do not tell him, he likes to think he’s prettier.'

She giggled conspiratorially. 'I will not tell. Do you feel better now? You looked sad before.'

He forced a smile. 'Oh yes, I just needed some fresh air and exercise. But now I am much better. Perhaps we should go back now?' Abby nodded, and they walked the short distance back up the street.

Though she could not hear their words, Lizzy had discreetly watched their interaction from the window while Fitzwilliam spoke with Bingley and marvelled at Darcy’s sweetness and mild manner with her young cousin. This was a side of him she had never seen, and she realised that she found it most attractive. _We would certainly have beautiful children… HE! He would have beautiful children…_ she corrected herself, horrified with the direction her thoughts had taken. _Come now Lizzy, do not be stupid… you love Richard. He’s a wonderful man who will make you very happy_. With a sigh, she returned to her fiancé's side to hear the rest of his conversation with Bingley, doing her best to ignore the rather adorable re-entrance of Darcy carrying little Abigail on his shoulders.

_Meanwhile, on the other settee…_

'Miss Bennet, I must tell you again how very glad I am to see you, and how very sorry I am to have run into you in such an ungentlemanly way. I fear that my behaviour towards you has been ungentlemanly in many ways. Please forgive me.'

'Truly, Mr Bingley, I know not of what you speak. You have not offended me in any way I know.'

Bingley gripped her hand tightly and spoke in soft but earnest tones. 'Oh, but I have wronged you Miss Bennet. In Hertfordshire I singled you out in such a way as to make you believe I had intentions towards you, and then I left without a word.' Jane struggled to hold back her tears. _So he is confessing that he does not love me. He is apologising for making me believe that he was serious in his attentions. Oh God, must I suffer through this? _'The truth is, Miss Bennet… Miss Bennet, are you unwell?'

'No, no, please, continue,' she choked out, unwilling to be impolite by interrupting him with her tears.

'Ahem... well, as I was saying… truly you look very ill. Can I not get you something for your present relief? A glass of wine?'

'No, no, I am well. Please, go on.'

'Miss Bennet, the truth is, that I had every intention of returning to Hertfordshire within the week. Unfortunately, I was detained by…'

'Hello Bingley, Miss Bennet!' a jovial voice boomed to them. The two lovers tore their eyes away from each other to see who had addressed them.

'Hello Colonel Fitzwilliam, it is lovely to see you.'

'Fitzwilliam! How do you do? Er… have you been here long?' Bingley asked with embarrassment.

'No, not at all… certainly no more than half an hour,' he teased. 'No, no, I have only just arrived. I was hoping to claim my lovely fiancée for a walk in the park on this lovely day, as I have a few particular things to speak to her about. What do you say my dear?' Bingley did not wait for her reply before he spoke to Jane again.

'As I was saying… I was detained by the unexpected arrival of my sisters, brother, and Darcy. I declared to them my intentions, and they immediately cautioned me against it. They first said you were not worthy of me, which I immediately refuted, as the exact opposite is true. Then… they said you did not love me. This was a blow I did not expect. Caroline, as your close friend, I could not doubt, and Darcy, whose judgment I trust far beyond my own, was convinced that you were indifferent. I myself could not believe that I was worthy of you but thought you had at least some affection for me. Upon hearing their firm assurances to the contrary, I lost the heart to return, and have been in town ever since. I have barely done anything but sit in my drawing room, or my club, or wherever Darcy or Caroline were able to drag me, but all the while I pined for you.' His voice was fervent now, and Jane could feel the passion emanating from his eyes; it took her breath away.

'I… but what of Miss Darcy?' she asked shyly, hoping against hope for a disavowal of Caroline’s assertions.

'What of her? She has no role in this that I know of,' he replied innocently.

'Miss Bingley led me to believe that… that you were to be married to her.'

'Married to little Georgiana? That is absurd! She is barely older than your youngest sister, and not yet out. Where would she get such a notion?' Jane smiled demurely and shrugged slightly.

'I cannot guess. She must have thought there was some affection for she specifically wrote to me about her.'

Bingley grunted. 'If I know Caroline, it was only said as a stab to hurt you. I promise you, that you will not have to put up with it when we are… er, next in company with her,' he quickly corrected. He had nearly said _when we are married_ but remembered himself in time; he did not have her consent yet.

'I am sure she meant well. I cannot imagine that she would be so cruel on purpose. No, it must be some terrible misunderstanding.' Bingley kissed her hand again.

'Miss Bennet, you are too good to be of this earth. You are truly an angel among us.' Jane blushed prettily, bestowing her most affectionate smile on her suitor. 'Now… why do we not get reacquainted with one another? We have much to catch up on…'

**********

Soon after Bingley's approval was granted to use Netherfield and Bingley himself had admitted to hoping that he would soon be in Hertfordshire as well (with a glance at Jane as he said this), Bingley and Darcy took their leave of the party. Before parting, each took the opportunity for a last private word.

'Miss Bennet, if it is not asking too much… may I ask for a private audience with you… perhaps tomorrow?' Bingley whispered eagerly to Jane.

'I will be here tomorrow, sir, if you were to call,' she replied hopefully.

He kissed her hand and bowed smartly, then with a tip of his top hat, 'Till tomorrow then!' and went out to the waiting carriage.

'Miss Bennet, I do hope you have taken my apologies to heart. I truly cannot bear to think that you are alive in the world and thinking ill of me,' Darcy said earnestly to Elizabeth in the few moments that his cousin spoke to Mrs Gardiner.

'I beg you sir, do not make yourself uneasy. You are forgiven, and indeed, I thank you for calling with Mr Bingley today.' She curtseyed to him, lowering her eyes so as not to meet his penetrating gaze. He took her hand and kissed it as he bowed.

'Thank you Miss, Bennet. Good day. Mrs Gardiner, thank you for your hospitality. Fitzwilliam,' with a final bow, he joined Bingley outside.

'Darcy, she is just as I remembered her… such an angel! She has consented to a private audience tomorrow!'

Darcy chuckled at his friend’s giddiness. 'What, propose already?' he teased. 'Are you sure you are not being too hasty?'

Bingley looked at him in all seriousness. 'I have already wasted too much time, Darcy. I must make her mine as soon as I am able. When you love someone as I love Jane, you will understand.'

'Perhaps I shall, Bingley. Perhaps I shall.'

'Oh, Lizzy! Lizzy! He loves me, Lizzy, he as well as said it! He has requested a private audience with me tomorrow! Do you think… oh Lizzy, do you think he will propose?' Jane gushed between laughter and tears. Elizabeth hugged her tightly, feeling the joy almost as deeply as Jane herself.

'I am sure he will Jane. He obviously loves you as much as ever. You will be so happy!'

'So shall we both be, with wonderful, loving husbands,' Jane replied warmly.

'Yes… exactly. We shall both be perfectly content.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Little Abigail Gardner is a cameo appearance by my favourite JAFF author from back in the day, Abigail Reynolds, who also agreed that Mr Darcy was prettier than Mr Colonel Fizzmillion ;)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding day arrives...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains mature/explicit Elizabeth/Colonel Fitzwilliam, skip the last section if you don't want to read that!

The wedding day was approaching. Darcy had kept himself in London even after Bingley’s post-engagement removal to Netherfield with Colonel Fitzwilliam. He wanted to stay as far away from wedding planning as possible, in the hopes of keeping the depressing truth away from his mind. It was bad enough that in two days' time, just three days before the wedding, he would have to go; he would much have preferred to arrive that day and leave at once after the wretched ordeal. Of course, that would not do, but he would certainly not remain at Netherfield for the wedding night. The very thought of his cousin and _his_ Elizabeth… no, it would not do at all. He would go before, but he would be damned if he would stay when she was no longer Miss Bennet.

His solitary reverie was interrupted when Baines walked into the library holding a letter. 'Here you are, sir. I believe it is from your solicitor.'

'Thank you, Baines. You may go.' The butler bowed and left his master alone to read.

_Mr Darcy,_

_I have found an excellent prospect for what you are seeking. It is just outside the town of ____, which you specified, is a charming prospect for a young family, and has a lovely garden with a prettyish little wilderness in the back lawn. If you wish to settle on it, the price is __ pounds. Please write me immediately with instructions._

_Yours, _

  1. _ Markby_

Darcy sighed, and with heavy heart, penned his brief reply.

_Markby,_

_Purchase it at once and send me the deed express as soon as you are able._

_FD_

**********

'Darcy, at last! We'd quite despaired of you!' cried Fitzwilliam.

'Is that Darcy? Where have you been?' Bingley yelled out from the drawing room.

Darcy rolled his eyes, not quite ready to face his friend’s enthusiasm. 'I was detained by business… and besides, I am not so terribly late, only half a day. Who are you, my mothers?'

Fitzwilliam laughed. 'I am glad you are here, Darcy. Come, will you to the drawing room? Our lovely fiancées are here, and Bingley and I hate to be separated from them for even a moment.'

'No, I hope you will excuse me,' he replied wearily. 'But if you will attend me for a moment in the library, I have a matter of business to discuss with you.' The gentlemen entered the library and Darcy handed Fitzwilliam a portfolio.

'What is this?'

'The deed to your new home,' Darcy answered nonchalantly. 'Consider it my wedding gift to you.'

Fitzwilliam leafed quickly through the portfolio and stared at his cousin in wide-eyed shock. 'Darcy, you cannot give me a _house_ as a wedding gift!' he replied, handing the papers back.

'Why not?'

'Do not be ridiculous! It is far too much! How can I ever accept it?'

Darcy shoved the papers back into his cousin’s hand. 'For God’s sake, Fitz, just take it,' he spat out. 'It is already bought.'

'At least allow me to let it from you… I shall be your tenant until such time as I can repay you.'

'Dammit, Richard, why can you not just accept this?' Darcy yelled with frustration.

Richard pounded his fist on the desk. 'Because,_ Fitzwilliam_…' he boomed, then finished softly, 'I do have _some_ pride. I am the bloody son of a bloody earl. I don’t want your charity.'

Darcy sighed and bowed his head. 'Very well… 100 pounds per annum, not a farthing more. There is but little land attached to the house, merely a garden and no income from it. You will need to pay for your servants, after all. I have already had the house furnished. And Fitz… I would ask that you do not mention this to Miss Elizabeth, I would not want her to feel obligated to me.'

'Darcy, I… thank you. I shall be forever in your debt.'

'You owe me no debt Richard. Just take good care of your… house,' he stuttered, his hand extended. His cousin shook it gratefully.

'I shall take good care of her Darcy… She will be very happy.'

Darcy tried his hardest to smile. 'I am sure she will Fitz, she obviously loves you well. But come, show me to my room. I need to refresh myself and go to bed. I am sure that I have three long days ahead of me.'_ Long indeed… long days of watching Elizabeth become someone else’s wife…_

**********

Unfortunately for Darcy, the three days did not go quite so slowly as he would have wished. In fact, he found that when the wedding day arrived, he could barely remember them having passed at all. He recalled calling on Longbourn and seeing _her_ there, looking radiant, stunning, more beautiful than in all his fantasies. She had smiled at him when she said hello, a truly friendly smile, and his heart had melted. For that smile he endured the ridiculous antics of Mrs Bennet, who tried to throw her other daughters in his path, and the equal silliness of said daughters. Kitty and Lydia still stared lustily at their future brother, almost as if hoping that he would switch sisters at the last moment. _Oh I wish he would…_ Mr Bennet’s dry humour, which he would normally have found amusing, grated on him nearly as much as Mrs Bennet’s screeching, and Bingley’s constant mooning over Jane made him just as nauseated as it did the previous autumn. But what particularly vexed him was the obvious affection between Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth.

If he didn’t know better, he would almost have thought that his cousin was flaunting his good fortune and mocking him with it. _Look what I have won, Darcy! You shall never have her!_

This wasn’t entirely true. In actuality, Fitzwilliam was more defending his territory than showing it off. He had noticed an inordinate amount of blushing on Elizabeth’s cheeks when Darcy first called on Longbourn, and he did not like it one bit. She had later explained that she was still embarrassed over their previous meeting, but just to be sure, he increased his attentions to her and barely let her near his cousin. It was not so much that he didn’t trust her fidelity, but that he himself was insecure; he knew he could not give her half, nay, one-tenth of what Darcy could, and the thought of him stealing her away was unbearable… he was taking no chances.

But nothing out of the ordinary did occur in those few days, and the day itself arrived with blue skies and fine weather. To Darcy it was the blackest of days, no matter the weather, but he knew his duty. He dressed smartly, pocketed the bridal ring with which he had been entrusted, and successfully evaded all company until they all left for the church together.

Elizabeth arrived at the church on time, taking her future husband’s arm at the altar. Her veil was much thicker than she remembered, and it hindered her view. She said her vows and turned to her new husband; but when he lifted her veil, she saw not Colonel Fitzwilliam, but Mr Darcy. Suddenly the church doors burst open, and Fitzwilliam came running up the aisle.

'Elizabeth! How could you betray me?' He fell to his knees and wept as Darcy picked Elizabeth up and carried her off to the waiting carriage.

'I am sorry, Richard… but it was not right… it just was not right!' she called behind her before looking into the face of Fitzwilliam Darcy, her new husband. He kissed her passionately as they exited the church, ignoring the gasps and whispers behind them.

'Elizabeth… I am so happy you chose me. I shall make you so happy,' he whispered to her once they were in the carriage, leading them off to the wilds of the north. She stroked and kissed his cheek.

'There was no other choice, my love. You are the one for me. I should never have denied it!' His reply was to kiss her again and again… he touched her everywhere, in places she did not even realise she could be touched, and each caress burned her skin with the heat of his passion.

'Oh my love! Make me yours, now!' He took her at her word; their marriage was consummated in a carriage… but it was the happiest moment she could remember. The feel of him inside her was the most intense pleasure she had felt; his hands upon her only increased her longing instead of granting the satiety she sought in his arms. And then, she knew not how, it ended: in the most amazing sense of euphoria, it ended. Darcy collapsed with exhaustion, carefully so as not to crush her, and stroked her face and sweat-soaked hair.

'How I love you,' he whispered. 'How I adore you, Mrs Darcy.' She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

'How happy I am to be called by that name. Mrs Darcy…'

Elizabeth practically jumped out of bed as she awoke. _Oh Lord, what a nightmare… what a terrible nightmare. Me, marry Mr Darcy? Impossible! Why should I wish such a thing? I don’t! I don’t wish it at all! I wish to marry Richard, and I shall! Today!_ With much more courage than she felt, Elizabeth called for her maid to draw her bath. After all, she had to look perfect on her wedding day.

**********

It was all a blur. He stood to the side, but not really knowing what was happening around him. It was as if he were in a fog, a dream, or a nightmare more like. He did his duty, handing Fitzwilliam the ring, signing the books as witness… Then the priest said, 'I present to you, Mr and Mrs Richard Fitzwilliam.' The crowd had erupted in cheers, and he, suddenly realizing where he was, stood gaping at their backs as they walked down the aisle.

Perhaps he had expected to wake up all the while, or for someone to call out an objection. He obviously could not, as best man. And what would he say? _You cannot marry this couple… they love each other, but I love her. Stop at once!_ Of course not. Still, he had hoped for something… something that never came. He left the church with the rest of the party, but unlike them, who went on to the wedding breakfast, Darcy mounted his horse and rode hard to London. It was fortunate that he knew the way well and the roads were good, for the tears that clouded his vision fell along the entire path.

It was now Darcy’s turn to awake with a start. He was in his London townhouse, half-dressed upon his bed. He sat up quickly, ignoring the throbbing in his head caused by far too much wine the night before; he looked around, thinking, praying, hoping to any God that would listen that it had all been a nightmare. He had almost made himself believe it… until he looked on the floor and saw his crumpled wedding attire and the trampled flower that had been his boutonnière. It had been real. Elizabeth was Mrs Fitzwilliam, and he was alone.

**********

Richard and Elizabeth Fitzwilliam returned to Netherfield still weary from the congratulations that had been offered all day. They now sought time alone and a little quiet. Bingley had mysteriously made himself disappear when they had arrived, and after a light supper, the newlyweds retired to their respective chambers, pausing in her dressing room.

'I love you,' Richard whispered with a tantalizing kiss of her ear. 'How long do you need before I come to you?'

Elizabeth shook slightly, still recalling her dream and the fear it had given her. _Don’t be ridiculous Lizzy! He is your husband… all will be well. _'Half an hour? Is that too long?'

He tried to ease her nerves with a few gentle kisses. 'Any time away from you is too long, sweet Elizabeth, but I shall endure it for the sake of the outcome.' He trailed lingering kisses down her neck, down to the hollow of her throat, and along her neckline. She sighed, pushing negative thoughts out and recalling how wonderful her husband’s kisses were. 'Mmm, I had better stop whilst I still can. I shall see you soon.' With one more long kiss, he left her.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam, would you like me to brush your hair?' came the voice of Elizabeth’s maid from her room. She jumped at the appellation, still so strange to her ears.

'Oh, no, thank you dear. You may retire.' The girl curtseyed and left Elizabeth to her thoughts. She remembered her mother’s lecture to her the night before and shuddered. Fortunately, her aunt had counselled her before she had left London, and of course there was Fitzwilliam’s lesson in the park… She sighed as she thought of his hands that day, and his lips… She changed into a lovely nightgown given to her by her aunt, and let her hair fall loose around her shoulders. She hoped he would approve.

'Right, Fitz. You have been with women before, no need to be nervous! Ah, but those women were not Elizabeth. Damn right they were not. She is beautiful, amazing, intelligent… and my wife. My wife! Why am I waiting here, pacing? It has been half an hour... she awaits! Oh God…' Fitzwilliam knocked on her door, and hearing a soft 'enter,' opened it. There was a vision beyond his imagination. She looked dazzling, sparkling with the innocence of Diane in her orb. He ran to her, holding her tightly in his arms.

'Richard, are you well? You seem upset.'

'No… not at all… I am quite the opposite. You seemed so like a vision, I had to hold you to know that you were real. And you are! You are real, and you are mine, and I am going to make love to you until we can go no longer!' With this oath, he picked her up and placed her on the bed. 'If ever I frighten you, or hurt you, tell me; I will not have my pleasure at your expense.' She nodded, and their dance began.

He first slowly disrobed her, exploring each new inch of revealed skin. She writhed under his touch, her approval guiding him. He cast aside his own clothing soon after, pressing himself against her to feel her naked skin against his. She felt him before she saw him, and when he seemed content to release his grip a bit, she moved back to admire the man before her. She was a bit unnerved by what she saw.

'Hmm... Richard, dear… I remember what you told me in the park, but… are you sure that will fit… anywhere in me?' she asked dubiously.

'In just a little while, Elizabeth, I will show you.' His hands wandered down, easing his fingers into her, hoping as to lessen her pain later. She winced at first, but the pressure became more pleasurable with the addition of his thumb caressing her most sensitive spot and his mouth taking her breast in as much as could be. She cried out to him, wanting to give him equal joy, equal sensations. 'Soon,' he promised, 'soon.' They touched, learned, explored, found, and lost themselves in the luxurious sensations they created. Then at last, he declared, 'It is time, Elizabeth. I can wait no longer!'

She subconsciously opened her legs wider, allowing him the seat of honour between them. He gazed at her for a moment, then, with as much gentleness as he could, he entered her, slowly, certain not to do anything of which she did not approve. She gasped, but motioned for him to continue, which he did ambitiously. The joint motion of their bodies carried them into the night, longer, again, and then again. Not until they collapsed with utter exhaustion did they cease their endeavours, and Elizabeth found herself quite content indeed with her situation. Quite content indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

Married life was treating Richard and Elizabeth Fitzwilliam rather well. Their tour of the Lakes, which Elizabeth had never seen, was a week of perfect bliss; Elizabeth was pleased to find that the duties of a wife were not at all unpleasant, and her husband was a kind and considerate teacher. All her previous doubts and fears disappeared as she felt a deeper affection for her husband, and she could not wait to begin her new life with him when they reached their new home.

Colonel Fitzwilliam, meanwhile, was at the height of joy. In his mind, nothing could be better than spending time with _his_ Elizabeth, his joy, the love of his life. Each morning of their honeymoon he would awake dreading to open his eyes with the fear that it had all been a magnificent dream… and then he would hear a sigh, or feel her soft skin against him, and all would be well. He thought of nothing but her all the while that they travelled.

Things changed when they reached their new home. Darcy had given him the direction and the description provided from the solicitor, but what awaited them was not at all what he expected. The house was exquisite. Both of them had been expecting Hunsford, perhaps Longbourn, but this was almost a mini-Pemberley. Granted, it was only one-tenth the size, and the park was infinitely smaller, but it was marked by a similar design, sense of taste and decorum, and perfect harmony with nature that made Pemberley so delightful. Of course, Elizabeth could not make this comparison, having never seen the much talked-of estate, but Fitzwilliam’s mind was immediately assaulted with it, and it made him not a little uncomfortable.

'Oh Richard,' Elizabeth sighed, her eyes full of tears, 'it is absolutely wonderful! Could you have imagined that it would be so lovely?'

'I am glad you like it. It is rather remarkable,' he replied, heartened by her approval. _So what if it looks like the spawn of Pemberley? It is not as if Darcy built it… he did not even look at it!_ Then he noticed Elizabeth becoming somewhat uneasy.

'Richard… how could you ever afford a place like this? You know I don’t need this much. I hope you have not overextended yourself.'

'Lizzy, please… I told you, I am letting it for a most reasonable sum from the owner. Don’t worry yourself over it.'

'Who is the owner?'

'An old friend… why does it matter?' he asked defensively. She pulled away from him somewhat angrily. To this point he had been open about his affairs, and though she knew he did not need to be, she had become accustomed to a certain amount of confidence. Now that he wasn’t giving it, she was suspicious. He sighed. 'My dearest Lizzy… it is a bit embarrassing for me. Someone attempted to _give_ us this house, as a wedding gift. I refused, it was too much, but he insisted, and I eventually convinced him to let it for a very low sum.'

She frowned and took his hand again. 'Who could be so generous? Was it your parents?'

'No, not them,' he replied uneasily, hoping she would stop asking.

'Then who, Richard? Who on earth would do such an incredible thing?'

He sighed heavily. 'Darcy.'

Elizabeth’s eyes went wide with disbelief and she shook her head rapidly. 'Mr Darcy? Why?'

'I asked him to write his solicitor to find us prospective homes in this region. Next thing I know he hands me a deed. That is Darcy, generous beyond all reason. Just the amount of money he has given Wickham will show you that. Please, Elizabeth, I was not terribly comfortable with the scheme, which is why I didn’t tell you. Now that we are here, I am almost tempted to give it back… I feel rather guilty about it.'

Elizabeth kissed his cheek to calm him. 'No, Richard, it is fine. It is just a surprise, that is all. It was very kind of him. As long as we are paying for it, I do not see a problem,' she said with more confidence than she felt. He smiled back, and they entered their new home.

The interior proved to be just as lovely as the façade. It was tastefully furnished and very comfortable, and Elizabeth fell in love with it at once. The servants took care of the luggage whilst they freshened up, and then the housekeeper took them around the house. Mrs Vernon was a plump, grandmotherly sort who had been at the house with the previous owners, and Fitzwilliam had decided to keep her, and indeed most of the staff, on to help them adjust to their new surroundings. She chattered on cheerily, noting to herself what a handsome young couple the Fitzwilliams seemed to be, and hoped they would be very happy. When the tour was done, a light supper had been prepared for them, which they gratefully took before retiring. Their bedchambers were separated by a small anteroom. Fitzwilliam did not even glance at his own door before following Elizabeth into hers; truth be told, he did not plan to spend much time in his room at all.

'Really sir, the servants will talk if you do not at least feign retiring to your own chamber,' Elizabeth teased as he closed the door.

'They can talk all they want. I love my wife more than words can say, and wish to have her near me,' he replied between kisses.

'I love you too, Richard. I think we shall be very happy here.'

'I am counting on it, my heart.'

**********

The Fitzwilliams left their beloved home only after two months, to attend Jane and Bingley’s wedding at Longbourn. Elizabeth was of course anxious to see her dear sister again, but there was another inducement: it was also the first time they had seen Darcy since their own nuptials, and Elizabeth was eager to express her gratitude for the wonderful home he had given them.

Her opportunity came almost immediately upon their arrival at Netherfield; she had gone for a walk to escape the hustle and bustle of the wedding preparations, and with a sense of déjà vu, she ran into Darcy on the lawn.

'Mr Darcy!' He started, called from his solitary reverie. 'How do you do sir?' He could not help but smile widely at seeing the object of that very reverie appear before him (though in a far more clothed and vertical state than he had been picturing). How many times had he wished for that to occur! Then he recalled with whom she had come. The thought that his own behaviour had been the source of the biggest of his misfortunes renewed his determination to correct her previous judgments of him, and with that in mind he spoke more warmly than perhaps he may have in the past.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam, how lovely to see you. I am well, and yourself?' _Mrs Fitzwilliam! Mrs Fitzwilliam! _Something was seriously askew; a tiny word was missing… _Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy, that’s what she ought to have been_… The knowledge that his dearest, loveliest, _maiden_ Miss Bennet was no more was almost too much to bear.

'Relieved to be out of the house! I had forgotten what a terrible fuss and bother wedding planning can be.'

He forced a smile. 'I confess to the same motivation. Shall we take a turn together, then?' She smiled and took his arm. The walked in silence, he enjoying the feeling of her on his arm, she building her courage to speak. At last she did.

'Mr Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to Richard and myself. To provide us with our wonderful home is beyond all reasonable generosity. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it.'

Darcy looked at her, startled. 'I am sorry, exceedingly sorry,' replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, 'that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Fitzwilliam was so little to be trusted.'

'You must not blame Richard. He did not wish to reveal the truth, but only said that a friend had helped us. Stubborn as I am, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble. You know not what it has meant to me; I love my home dearly.'

'Please, Mrs Fitzwilliam, do not thank me. I did nothing so extraordinary. I sent specifications to my solicitor, he returned with your house, I had him secure the deed. That is all. I beg you, do not mention it again.'

'Very well,' she agreed with a frown. From then, their walk continued in silence.

**********

Jane and Bingley’s wedding was beautiful; they spent the wedding night at Netherfield, then left for a tour of the northern counties that would include a visit to Pemberley and to Halgian, the name Fitzwilliam had chosen for their home. Elizabeth eagerly anticipated their arrival. They arrived one evening about a week after the Fitzwilliams themselves had returned from Hertfordshire.

'Jane! Charles! How wonderful to see you!' Elizabeth cried as she ran out to meet their carriage. The sisters embraced tightly. 'Richard should be back soon; he was training new recruits this afternoon. Come, I will show you to your rooms.' After the newlyweds had freshened up, they came back downstairs for supper. Elizabeth begged them to tell her of their travels. They happily obliged her, Jane being particularly effusive about the grand houses they had seen and the delightful countryside they had driven through. Then she spoke of Pemberley.

'Oh Lizzy, it is the most beautiful place; I have never seen a place for which nature has done more, or where natural beauty has been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. It was simply delightful. And Mr Darcy was all that is kind and hospitable. He was a most generous host.'

'Indeed, he always is!' Bingley chimed in. 'Though he confessed to me that it was a relief to have me there without Caroline… that relaxed him a great deal as well!' he laughed. 'Still, he was a bit out of sorts, I think. He had been, for a while, but I thought he was finally beginning to come out of it. And then he seemed somewhat melancholy again during this visit.'

'Why could that be?' Elizabeth asked.

Bingley shrugged. 'I cannot really say. Perhaps it is seeing all these happily married couples and still being a bachelor himself.' He smiled at his lovely wife, forgetting Elizabeth for a moment until she discreetly coughed.

'You know Lizzy, your house bears a certain resemblance to Pemberley,' Jane noticed. 'It is almost a miniature. Do you not think so Charles?'

'I see what you mean angel. There are many similarities. Did Fitzwilliam have that in mind when he let it?'

Elizabeth shook her head. 'No, not at all… in fact, we never saw it until the day we arrived. In truth, Mr Darcy’s solicitor is the one who found it. Perhaps it was his doing.' She smiled but found the coincidence a bit odd indeed. Just then, the housekeeper entered the parlour.

'If you please ma’am, Colonel Fitzwilliam has arrived. Shall I serve supper?'

Elizabeth smiled widely. 'Yes, thank you Mrs Vernon. We shall be there directly. Well, let us go eat!'

As they had been travelling for much of the day, the Bingleys were inclined to retire early that night. Jane embraced her sister and joined her husband in their bedchamber. 'Lizzy does look very happy, do you not think so Charles?'

Bingley pulled his wife close to him and began unpinning her hair. 'Quite so my dear. I am very happy for her. Though I must confess that it is partially for selfish reasons.'

'And what might those be sir?' Jane asked, untying his cravat.

'If your sister had not become engaged to Colonel Fitzwilliam, we may never have been reunited, and I cannot bear to think of a life without you.'

Jane kissed her husband tenderly. 'You never shall have to live such a life my dear,' she assured him. 'Charles, do you think it is coincidence that Mr Darcy’s dark moods have occurred immediately after Lizzy’s wedding and then ours?'

'Not at all, I think it is perfectly reasonable. Darcy has always intended to marry, but he thinks he will never find the right lady for him. Seeing two perfect couples such as we and the Fitzwilliams marry in such quick succession must have been difficult for him.'

She smiled brightly at him. 'Yes, we are a perfect couple, aren’t we?' she sighed. 'And Lizzy and Colonel Fitzwilliam are certainly very content… although at times I felt a bit awkward, as if something were not quite right with the situation. Do you know what I mean? Have you ever had that feeling?'

'I know exactly what you mean. For example, there is something wrong with this situation right now.'

'And what is that sir?'

'You are still dressed, Mrs Bingley. Please, allow me to rectify this at once.'

'With pleasure, Mr Bingley.' Jane turned and allowed her husband to unbutton her dress and slip it off her shoulders; its descent to the ground was soon followed by petticoat, chemise, and corset. 'Charles, do you think it indecent that we make love as often as we do?' she mused as his clothes joined hers on the floor.

'Oh no, my dear,' he replied vehemently, picking her up and placing her on the bed. 'We are newlyweds after all… in fact, I think we do not make love often enough. Come here, allow me to rectify that situation as well.' Jane happily acquiesced and allowed her marital duties to push out of her mind all misgivings she had felt about any situation that had been on her mind.

The Bingleys’ visit lasted only two days, not nearly enough time for the sisters to satisfy their longing for each other’s company, but at least each had the satisfaction of knowing that they were leaving each other in the good hands of loving husbands.

In late August, only a few weeks after the Bingleys had left, Fitzwilliam received a letter that carried the prospect of another visitor. 'Elizabeth, what would you say to Georgiana spending a month here with us before she returns to town for the winter? Darcy says she has been asking to visit us for months.' Elizabeth quickly agreed; though she had met Georgiana only briefly at the wedding, she seemed a very sweet girl, and she wished to further their acquaintance. Fitzwilliam replied with the invitation, and by mid-September the Darcy carriage pulled into the drive of Halgian.

Darcy had been trying to avoid this visit ever since his sister had mentioned that she wished to go. The last thing he needed was to have a vision of Elizabeth’s domestic bliss to go along with the image already seared in his brain of her wedding. He was concentrating so hard on not thinking about her that he did not realise how far they had come until Georgiana cried out to him. 'Oh William, look! Is it not lovely!' He looked out the window of the carriage and started at the sight. _Good God… I’ve bought them Pemberley 'fils'…_ 'How odd… it resembles Pemberley somewhat, doesn’t it?'

'Yes… how peculiar,' he replied shortly. 'Look, there they are. Now remember, this is not Pemberley; the Fitzwilliams have a much simpler life than we have at home. Do not be any trouble for them. I will have Richard write to me if you misbehave,' he teased, pinching her cheek.

'Oh William,' she rolled her eyes. The carriage stopped and the Darcys stepped out to be greeted warmly by the Fitzwilliams. 'Richard! Mrs Fitzwilliam! I am so happy to see you again! You have a lovely home,' Georgiana gushed.

Elizabeth embraced her. 'Please, Georgiana, we are cousins. Call me Elizabeth. Hello, Mr Darcy, it’s so nice to see you,' she added with a smile before taking Georgiana inside to refresh herself.

'Darcy, it really is good to see you. It was good of you to bring Georgie; I fear the officers’ wives become somewhat tedious company for Elizabeth after so long! You will stay with us at least a few days, will you not?'

'No, I’m afraid I cannot stay but tonight. The harvest will be starting soon, so I have much to do around the estate before Michaelmas.' _And I don’t want to see you with Elizabeth any longer than I have to._ Fitzwilliam clapped him on the back.

'Well, we shall make do. We can catch up tonight at port… but I must beg you, no talk of politics. The escalating situation on the continent is not a subject that a newlywed soldier wishes to hear much of,' he said with a nervous laugh.

That evening was one of the happiest Darcy could remember in a long time. Fortunately, Elizabeth did not wear a cap, so when his cousin was not sitting near her, he imagined her as still being Miss Bennet. She and Georgiana played for them; she confessed that her skills had greatly improved now that she had more time to practice, and her performance was evidence of that. Darcy had always thought her playing delightful, but now her natural ease had the added benefit of greater proficiency. He gazed at her, unaware of the admiration glowing on his face.

Fitzwilliam, too, watched his wife with undisguised love. Then for a moment, he turned his head and saw Darcy. The look in his eyes was unmistakeable. Fitzwilliam’s heart rose to his throat, but he could not be jealous; something inside him had known it all along, really. He could not even be angry, for despite his own feelings for Elizabeth, Darcy had done so much to help them, had even stood up for Fitzwilliam at the wedding. He stared at his cousin until he could stand it no longer. His stomach was tied up in knots; where did Elizabeth’s thoughts lie? With trepidation, he looked back up at her as she finished her song. She immediately looked at him and smiled affectionately. His heart soared as Darcy’s sank, the momentary fantasy dashed. The gentlemen remained downstairs later than the ladies, talking about business, family, and the weather, but to Darcy’s relief, barely a word was said about the Fitzwilliams’ marital felicity. Soon they too retired.

In need of reassurance, Fitzwilliam pulled Elizabeth to him the moment they were in her room. 'Feeling amorous tonight, Richard?' she teased before he stopped her mouth with an ardent, almost violent kiss. 'I shall take that as a yes.' To confirm this assumption, he hastily removed his clothes and hers, and took her with a vigour and rapidity that she had not yet experienced in their four months together. It was not tender lovemaking but a possession, a claim; he was proving to himself that his wife was indeed his. His strokes were deep and hard, driving into Elizabeth as far as he could. She cried out loudly when she reached the edge, and the two of them, breathless and spent, collapsed into the pillows.

'I am so sorry, Lizzy… I hope I did not hurt you,' Fitzwilliam apologised after catching his breath, feeling guilty that he had taken out his emotions on his wife’s inexperienced body.

'No, Richard, it was… exhilarating. Whatever caused you to do it, I hope it happens more often!' she replied seductively. He smiled weakly and prayed that this particular hope of hers would be completely dashed.

The next morning, Elizabeth was first at the breakfast table before Darcy’s early departure. 'Good morning Mr Darcy. Richard will be down soon I believe. Are you sure you cannot stay longer?'

'I am certain Mrs Fitzwilliam. Thank you for your hospitality towards myself and Georgiana. I confess, I am relieved that she will be spending this time with you. I am sure it has come to your attention that my sister is a very shy creature, but she seems to be livelier in your company. I have great hopes that perhaps your example and guidance will help her overcome her natural timidity. Clearly, I am not the best mentor for that,' he joked, and was rewarded by an amused smile that lit up Elizabeth’s fine eyes. 'I am therefore grateful for more than your hospitality. I hope we can return the favour at Pemberley.'

'Thank you, Mr Darcy. I’m quite certain that having Georgiana here will be more of a pleasure than a burden. She is a lovely girl. I am sure we will be great friends. I thank you for your offer; I have heard so much about Pemberley, I am eager to see it.'

'Perhaps you and your husband could join us for Christmas?' he invited impulsively, mentally kicking himself the moment the words were out of his mouth – whilst also hoping that she would accept the proffered hospitality. 'That is, if you are not already engaged.'

'Thank you again, Mr Darcy. I will speak with Richard about it.'

'Speak with Richard about what?' said the man himself as he entered the breakfast room.

'We have been invited to spend Christmas at Pemberley, my dear. Would you like to go?' Elizabeth asked hopefully, very much wishing to see the famous estate.

Fitzwilliam smiled weakly. 'Of course, of course. That would be excellent.' An awkward silence settled before Elizabeth spoke again.

'Well, I will go wake Georgiana. I am sure she will want to see you off.' After a slightly teary goodbye from his sister, Darcy was on his way, as much relieved as saddened to be out of Elizabeth’s presence.

Georgiana’s visit was a very happy time for the couple. Elizabeth helped Georgiana out of her shell, and for her efforts was rewarded with a close companion and friend. There was one habit of the Fitzwilliams', though, that had to be changed; after Georgiana had walked in on them in compromising positions several times, they decided to discontinue their random amorous encounters that took place throughout the house.

They were both saddened by her departure but looked forward to meeting again in December at Pemberley, as well as to resuming their previous habit of making love wherever and whenever they wished. To this end, the very evening that Georgiana left, Fitzwilliam found his wife reading in the small library. He locked the door, walked over to her, picked her up, and placed her on the edge of the secretary that sat in the corner of the room. He lifted her skirts, unbuttoned his breeches, and took her there, without either of them saying a word until they had taken their pleasure of each other.

'I love you, Elizabeth,' he whispered, holding her against himself, staying inside her as long as he could. 'Promise that you will always be mine.'

'I promise Richard… I love you.'

**********

The time until they left for Derbyshire passed relatively mundanely. Fitzwilliam was blissfully happy with his wife, but his career was beginning to worry him. He had been training legions of young soldiers who were subsequently sent to Portugal; because of his birth and newlywed status, he had been spared active duty thus far. He was concerned, however, that soon there would not be enough men to ship over, and he would have to leave. At least he had gotten his commander’s word that for the winter, he was safe. Elizabeth had another concern entirely; she was worried about her ability to conceive. The night was rare that did not see Fitzwilliam in her chamber, but every month showed no change in her condition. She prayed that one day they would be blessed with a child, but her prayer had not been answered by the time they left for Pemberley in mid-December.

'I know you will adore Pemberley, Lizzy,' Fitzwilliam assured her as they drew near. 'There are woods and groves enough to satisfy even your enthusiasm for them,' he teased.

She laughed and slapped his arm. 'Are you quite sure we shall reach the house before dark then?'

He smiled. 'Just wait.' He made her cover her eyes, then a few minutes later had the driver stop the coach. 'Very well… look.' The sight that greeted her took her breath away. The house was beautiful, and the thin blanket of snow that coated the estate gave it a serene, dreamlike quality. She certainly saw the resemblance to her own home, but Pemberley was by far the grander place.

'Oh my,' she breathed, utterly overwhelmed. 'It is beautiful. I see why Georgiana is so attached to it.'

'I thought you would like it. Drive on! Just wait until you see inside the place.' Sure enough, the inside showed the same amount of taste and elegance as the outside. Georgiana nearly ran to Elizabeth’s arms, and insisted on giving her a tour of the house the moment she had changed out of her travel clothes and waxed lyrical about how happy she was to see her friend again. They spent nearly as much time chatting as they did seeing different rooms, and Darcy had to come hunt them down for supper.

The following day, a surprise arrived: the Bingleys had also been invited to spend the Christmas season. Even more amazing was that it had all been Darcy’s idea, including making it a surprise for both Jane and Elizabeth, who again found herself wondering about the enigma that was Fitzwilliam Darcy.

In the fortnight that followed, Elizabeth continued to see a Fitzwilliam Darcy she never knew existed. She knew of his generosity toward her husband and herself, but she had attributed that, at least partially, to their blood ties. Now, as a guest in his house, she witnessed the absolute gentleness and fairness that he showed to his servants and tenants. As a brother, a landlord, a master, she considered how many people's happiness were in his guardianship; how much pleasure or pain it was in his power to bestow; how much good or evil must be done by him. While she felt that her initial judgment of her host's character had been fairly justified by his behaviour then, her stay at Pemberley forced her to reflect on his person from a new perspective.

His hospitality towards his guests was also amazing; Jane had not been exaggerated in her praise. Every need, every whim, and every desire they had was attended after a word. Elizabeth had noticed the frozen lake and said, 'Oh, wouldn’t it be grand to ice-skate?'; the following day, Darcy returned from Lambton with 6 pairs of ice skates. They all spent the day outside in the snow, and upon their return they found a fire, blankets, and plenty of tea and soup to warm them. The entire visit seemed dedicated to the pleasure of the Bingleys and Fitzwilliams.

The other thing that struck Elizabeth was the absolute luxury of her surroundings. Pemberley may have had a superficial resemblance to Halgian, but that is where the similarities ended. It seemed that more servants lived at Pemberley than in the entire village around Halgian, and the sheer magnificence of everything, while at the same time being completely elegant and not at all pretentious, was incredible. In fact, many of the pieces she would have selected herself had she the income for it. In Elizabeth’s opinion, this too spoke volumes of Darcy’s personality. In addition, much to her embarrassment, she could not deny that his 'Master of the Manor' bearing held a strong charm, and she guiltily found that her pulse quickened whenever she saw him unexpectedly. She experienced similar reactions when he kissed her hand as he had at Gracechurch Street all those months ago, and this too caused her some chagrin. Fortunately, sharing a bed with her husband each night made her forget her strange feelings, and she was able to explain them away, rationalising that he was, after all, a very handsome gentleman, and it was normal to feel some attraction to him. It was nothing to worry over, for she loved her husband, and Mr Darcy certainly had no interest in her beyond that of familial bonds.

Darcy’s emotions, meanwhile, were constantly going from delirious joy to absolute torture. He sometimes was able to speak to Elizabeth alone when they both happened to take a stroll in newly-fallen snow. Here, at his home, on his lands, he was able to feel more at ease, and show her his true self in a far less restrained manner than when he was amongst strangers. These were times of utter and complete happiness such as he had never felt.

Then he would see her with her husband, and his world shattered. _Richard_ had her affections, _Richard_ had her love, _Richard_ had her body. *The body Darcy dreamed of possessing night after night, causing those hours set aside for sleep to become even more restless than they had already been. His daytime ease in her presence disappeared once she retired for the night, and he became painfully aware of not only her absence, but also of the permeability of the barriers that stood between them. His imagination presented to him the picture of that of which he was deprived, and the image of Elizabeth, dressed in nothing but a nightgown, with her hair loose upon her shoulders and an inviting smile on her lovely face haunted him. The knowledge that this temptation resided under his roof with only a few feet of hall and a door between them did not leave him for a moment*, and all that kept him sane was to imagine her entering _his_ chamber instead of her husband’s, whispering how dearly she loved _him_, how badly she wanted _him_. He imagined doing all sorts of things to her delectable flesh, and her reaction: sensuous, seductive, breathtaking. His mind always carried the fantasy through to its culmination, and with this pitiful relief, he survived until morning without beating Fitzwilliam unconscious and ravishing his lovely wife.

The Christmas banquet was the culmination of the holiday celebrations. The feast was opulent, wine flowed like water, and cheer permeated everything. Georgiana did an admirable job as hostess; she had confided to Elizabeth that she had been practicing for weeks to make sure she knew how to act. She also expressed her eagerness to pass on the hosting duties of the Darcy household to her future sister-in-law, but worried that her brother seemed to be in no hurry to provide her with a replacement mistress of Pemberley. Elizabeth had assured her that someday her brother would marry, but for some reason the thought unsettled her; she brushed the feeling off.

After dinner, gifts were exchanged. The ladies were inundated with dresses, jewels, and fragrances, and the gentlemen with various accessories for sport and business. Darcy had debated what to give Elizabeth for weeks; it could not be too personal, but he did not wish it to be impersonal either. At last he chose a very fine pendant-watch, and to add a more intimate touch, had it engraved with, 'To EBF, Best Regards, FD'. He had been successful; she had loved it and replaced her old one with it immediately.

In what seemed too short a time for everyone but Darcy (who was beginning to chafe at the constant exposure to an affectionate Colonel and Mrs Fitzwilliam), the day arrived for the departure of the guests. Elizabeth was warm and honest with her profuse compliments of Darcy hospitality, unable to thank them enough for giving her the best Christmas she could remember. Darcy glowed inwardly with the praise and offered both couples an open invitation to Pemberley for the summer months. Georgiana, sad to see the company depart, passionately seconded her brother’s statement. She also extracted a promise from her friends to call on her when they were next in town, as she would be returning to her masters soon after the new year. Tearful goodbyes were said, and with an entirely new image of one particular member of the Darcy household, Elizabeth returned home with her husband.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lines between the asterisks are taken with permission from _Impulse and Initiative_ Abigail R


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's ready for some melodrama? XD

Winter turned to spring, and March saw the Fitzwilliams still at Halgian, Elizabeth still childless and Richard more concerned about the escalating war. Everything hinted at his imminent departure to join the army on the Iberian Peninsula, but he was certain that they would at least respect his upcoming first wedding anniversary and wait until midsummer.

On a cool night in early March, the happy couple was getting cosy under a blanket near the fire when an express arrived for Fitzwilliam. His stomach tightened, but he kept a smile for Elizabeth’s sake.

'I’ll wager this is our invitation to Rosings for Easter,' he joked, eliciting a sweet giggle from his wife. One glance at the seal, however, told him the missive was not from Lady Catherine, but his commanding officer. Fitzwilliam’s jovial face suddenly turned grim as he read the letter. Concerned, Elizabeth placed her hand on his arm. 'What is it my dear?' she asked softly. He did not reply until he had finished the letter and crumpled it in his fist.

'I am being sent to Portugal,' he replied in a tone of quiet fury. 'Portugal! I have not been married a year, and they are sending me to war!' he yelled. Elizabeth paled, her eyes wide with shock. Impulsively, she embraced him.

'Must you go? I do not understand why they must send you now!' she sobbed into his shoulder. He held her possessively, his blood boiling with anger. He considered his situation, planning what to do to get out of this duty for just a little longer; the more he thought, though, the more he realised that it would be impossible. He had already been warned by his commander that they would be sent soon, and the shortage of men inevitably meant that he could not buy his way out of the battle. Anger turned to despair at the thought of leaving Elizabeth… perhaps forever.

'I must,' he whispered in reply. 'There is nothing that can be done. I must go.'

**********

The days after Richard’s summons were filled with preparations. He would leave in a little over a month, and they would spend the last week in town for the final arrangements. There was one question that Elizabeth had not yet dared to ask, but when a week passed and no mention had been made of it, she felt it had to be done. She approached her husband one evening in the library as he was writing letters. His broad shoulders were bent, worry consuming him further with each passing day. She placed a hand on the nape of his neck; he immediately turned and stood to wrap her in his arms.

'What is to become of you my love?' she asked, unable to avoid crying yet again at the mention of his departure.

'All shall be well my dearest. All shall be well.'

'And what is to become of me?' Richard looked down at her tear-stained face, and the confusion now covering it. 'Where shall I go when you are gone? I cannot stay here alone.'

'Nor shall you. Would you wish to return to Hertfordshire? I am certain your father or sister would…'

'And my mother. I love her dearly, Richard, but I do not wish to be exposed to her nerves at such a time.'

'Your aunt in London then. The distractions of town will surely lift your spirits.'

'In town? I suppose I could, but… I had much rather stay in the countryside. I had thought that perhaps your parents could take me in?'

Richard smiled. 'Of course. They shall be travelling to Ireland next month, there is all the countryside you could desire there!'

Elizabeth looked crestfallen. 'Oh Richard, how could I think of travelling whilst you are away? How will you write to me? What if anything should happen?'

He kissed her forehead and brushed away her tears with his thumb. He could think of only one more option. 'If that is the case my dear… well, I am certain that Georgiana should be very pleased to have your company at Pemberley.' _Pemberley. The last place I would send you._

'Pemberley? I had not thought… I suppose… yes, I suppose Pemberley would… I would very much like to see Georgiana again. But will Mr Darcy agree? I should not wish to inconvenience them.'

'It will be no trouble at all, I am sure. I had not intended to go to town until April, but I shall ride tomorrow to speak with my solicitor and with Darcy. I shall only be gone three days.' Elizabeth nodded and held Richard ever more tightly. Pemberley would provide the peaceful solitude she desired, its reserved occupants the ideal companions of her grief. Yes, Pemberley it would have to be.

**********

'Portugal? Now? Is it absolutely certain?' Darcy asked frantically.

Fitzwilliam nodded solemnly. 'The loss of men has been great, and I cannot buy my way out. I have already tried every avenue; I must go.'

Darcy placed a reassuring hand on Fitzwilliam’s shoulder. 'I am grieved indeed, Fitzwilliam. This could not have come at a worse time, I am sure.'

His cousin smiled bitterly. 'Well, I suppose it could… at least Elizabeth is not with child.'

Darcy swallowed hard, unable to support the thought of Elizabeth carrying anyone’s child but his own. It was indeed a small blessing for him that she had not yet conceived. Clearing his throat, he regained his composure and tried to change the subject.

'So what brings you here? I imagine that you would rather be home than with me!' he said, hoping to sound light-hearted.

'I wish to ask a favour of you, Darcy. I… I want you take care of Elizabeth,' Fitzwilliam replied shakily, wishing (for many reasons, not the least of which was jealousy) that he did not have to ask this favour of the man before him. 'I want you to take her to Pemberley with Georgiana and yourself while I am gone. She does not wish to be alone at Halgian, and Hertfordshire is not the place for her either, not even Netherfield.' Darcy nodded, agreeing with the wisdom of not sending her to Mrs Bennet in her time of distress. However, he was almost equally certain that entrusting Elizabeth to his care was not a prudent decision either.

'Can she not stay with your parents, or your brother?'

Richard shook his head. 'Unfortunately, my parents are out of the question. They are to be travelling in Ireland through the summer, a journey Elizabeth is not desirous of at the moment. As for my brother… would you leave someone you cared about with that wife of his?' he shuddered. 'No, Darcy, she must go to Pemberley. Please… I am begging you.'

Reluctantly, Darcy extended his hand. 'Very well… if she desires it, Georgiana and I shall take her to Pemberley.'

Fitzwilliam shook Darcy’s hand forcefully. 'Thank you Darcy. You know not what this means to me. You are a true friend.' Darcy forced a smile and waved off the compliment. _Do not be too hasty with your praise, cousin. Let us see how true I prove to be with the constant temptation of the woman I love under my roof! _ he thought ruefully, praying that his sense of honour would carry him through the ordeal with no greater sin on his soul than impure thoughts of another man’s wife.

**********

Richard returned to Halgian as quickly as he could, eager to spend all of his remaining time with Elizabeth. But the days and weeks passed too quickly; soon it was April, and the day soon came when they had to abandon their home for London. They stayed at the Darcy townhouse to allow for easier preparation for Elizabeth’s removal to Pemberley. This was a difficult time for Darcy; his cousin had requested only one room for himself and Elizabeth instead of separate chambers, and the thought that he fell asleep each night and awoke each morning with Elizabeth by his side was enough to drive Darcy mad. He tried to force images of the two of them making love out of his head, but Fate was cruel and seemed determined to bring such thoughts to his mind when he could least cope with them.

At last, the day arrived for Fitzwilliam to leave for Portugal. Goodbyes were long and painful, and Darcy and Elizabeth stood on the dock until the ship was long out of sight. When the mast was no more than a dot against the horizon, Elizabeth fell to her knees and began to weep. Darcy quickly helped her up and kept his hold so she would remain standing. She wept into his shoulder for God knows how long, while he kept his arms around her and closed his eyes, allowing himself to pretend for just a moment that she was his. When she finally stopped crying, he forced himself to pull away slightly and ask if she was ready to return to the townhouse. She nodded and they were on their way.

**********

The trip to Pemberley was a painful ordeal for them all. Elizabeth had still felt reluctant to go, but her other options were not quite so palatable as spending time with an understanding friend in the form of Georgiana in a place large enough for her to have relative solitude. She was desperate to have Jane with her, but the thought of her mother being so near made going to Netherfield impossibility. No, Pemberley was the best place, although she dearly wished the choice didn’t need to have been made at all.

Darcy watched Elizabeth in silence for most of the two-day journey. Even with her face drawn and streaked with tears she was still as beautiful to him as when she smiled. He contemplated the terrible position he was going to be in. _She is again going to be under my roof, but this time her husband would not be there to interfere… er, occupy all her time. She will be alone in her bed… I could so easily join her… Argh, stop it Darcy, this isn’t helping your self-control!_ This was going to be difficult indeed.

There are few sights more beautiful than Derbyshire in the summer, and even Elizabeth’s melancholy could not resist the joys to be found in the wild, untamed beauty of Pemberley’s grounds. She walked outdoors often, sometimes alone, sometimes with Darcy or Georgiana or both. Every two or three weeks, when a letter would come from Richard, she would take it out to some hidden grove and weep as she read of his peril. He tried to keep them general, making only the vaguest comments about their position, never mentioning casualties, and repeating over and over how much he loved and missed her. She faithfully sent her replies to whatever address he instructed her to send them to and was gratified when he mentioned receiving them. On the day of their first wedding anniversary, she took all the letters he had ever sent her, from their courtship to his latest missive, to her favourite spot and cried more passionately than she had ever done.

Her loneliness, she knew, was not nearly as acute as her husband’s. She had Georgiana as a confidante, Darcy was even kinder now than he had been at Christmas, and she was surrounded by luxury and beauty. The separation was still difficult, her heart still ached, but at least she did not have to be alone, or at war. Her biggest difficulty, if she were honest with herself, was fighting her growing attraction for Darcy. Without Richard’s presence, she found it more difficult to keep his cousin out of her mind. It had not worried her before because she had shrugged it off as mere physical attraction for an obviously handsome man. Now, though, she found herself becoming attracted to the man for who he was: someone thoughtful, considerate, generous, and whose tastes were, much to her surprise, often compatible with hers.

To her horror, she found herself dreaming about him, in ways much like the dream before her wedding; only this time she had the experience to _know_ all that they could do, and did they ever do all of it! Sometimes she would even fantasise about him while still awake, imagining what his kisses would be like, and how it would feel to have his weight pressing down on her as they made love. She knew her feelings were dangerous and that she should avoid him, but she felt drawn to him, finding his presence comforting when her loneliness was at its worst.

Darcy was fighting similar battles within himself, though his were far more raging and violent. Each morning he awoke after a night of torrid dreams, determined not to seek her out, or, if he did come upon her, keep conversation brief and leave as soon as possible. He was sometimes successful, on his strongest days, in his resolution not to seek her out; he was less so when it came to avoiding her when she was already in his company. All it took was one smile in his direction, and he would melt completely; he could not deny an invitation to walk the gardens or listen to the latest duet she and Georgiana had been practicing. His mind screamed at him to keep his distance, but every other particle in his body gravitated towards her as if by some indomitable force.

Things grew more difficult for them when Elizabeth didn’t hear from Fitzwilliam for the entire month of July. Her grief reached its highest peak, and Darcy did his best to comfort her during this difficult time. She confided her deepest fears to Darcy: that Fitzwilliam was dead, or if not yet dead, would die in battle and never return. When she broke down sobbing, he did not resist the urge to hold her in his arms. In fact, as time wore on, he stopped resisting many urges; he kissed her hand each night, accompanied her on a daily hour-long stroll, and always found something to do in the library when she was there reading. At last, two letters arrived from Fitzwilliam in August, forcing Darcy to remember his duty to his cousin and giving Elizabeth much needed respite from her anxiety over her husband’s condition. Watching the relief and happiness that the letters brought to Elizabeth, Darcy tried to appease his own conscience by attributing his more personal attentions to the care she needed and was entitled to in her hour of need.

Fitzwilliam’s recent letters spoke of the soldiers moving into Spain, getting nearer to France. He had been unable to send the first letter immediately because of this displacement, and by some postal fluke the two had arrived simultaneously. She read them over and over, relieved that her husband was still alive and thriving on the continent. What she did not foresee was that now her mind, less troubled by thoughts of Fitzwilliam, turned again to thoughts of Darcy. She thought of his compassion during her darkest moments, and how concerned he had looked, holding her hand, whispering in her ear that all would be well. She denied it to herself over and over again, but the truth was gnawing away at her heart: she was falling in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy.

**********

Days turned into weeks, and the inhabitants of Pemberley felt the chill of autumn descending as September arrived. Both Elizabeth and Darcy knew that they spent too much time together, that it was almost indecent and may soon cause speculation, but neither one had the heart to stop; they had a bittersweet joy in each other. He felt himself to be in particular danger because each day he saw new signs of an awakening of feeling in her. As long as he knew that she loved only her husband, nothing could defeat his sense of honour; however, if she loved him in return, he would no longer be able to vouch for his self-control. At least evenings were spent with Georgiana in the music room, often with the three of them performing together: Georgiana on piano, Elizabeth sometimes joining her and usually singing, and Darcy adding his rich baritone to Elizabeth’s alto. One night, however, the entertainment changed.

Elizabeth had declined to sing that evening, a sore throat brought on by the cooling weather preventing her from performing. Instead, she and Darcy read as Georgiana played several new pieces she had been learning. When she began to play a lively Scottish air, Darcy smiled mischievously, put down his book, and leaned over to speak to Elizabeth.

'Do not you feel a great inclination, Mrs Fitzwilliam, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?' She looked up at him oddly, as if trying to discern where she had heard those words before. To help jog her memory, he continued, 'You may reply however you wish. I shall not dare despise you for any answer you make.' Her lips curled into a smile when she finally recognized their dialogue from Netherfield.

'In that case, Mr Darcy, I shall say that yes, I do feel an inclination to dance a reel, regardless of whether it will earn your contempt to say so,' she replied impertinently.

'No contempt at all, my dear lady. I would be very happy if you honoured me with this dance.' With a smile, she put down her book and took his hand. They danced playfully, laughing more than talking. Halfway through they began inventing their own steps, and Darcy pulled her a bit closer to himself than was customary, close enough to detect her lavender fragrance. He spun her around under his arm, making her laugh that delightful laugh he so adored. Not for a moment did he release her hand. When the song ended, he drew her near again and clasped her other hand. She looked up at him laughing and blushing, and their eyes met for one terrible, wonderful instant. Elizabeth was first to look away, taking a step back and freeing her hands to applaud Georgiana. Darcy continued to stare at her, wondering at her reaction.

Elizabeth turned back to Darcy and curtseyed, not daring to meet his eye again. She had seen a depth of emotion there that she had been trying to ignore for several weeks, and it frightened her. Not trusting herself to remain downstairs any longer, she pleaded overexertion and needing rest for her cold and retired early. Her thoughts, however, did not leave the room with her. Her mind was full of him, her heart swelling with fear and desire. She admitted to herself that she had never reacted as strongly to Fitzwilliam as she did to Darcy, but she could not decide if this was due to the lure of forbidden fruit or because she truly loved Darcy more than she loved her husband. It was not a pleasant question to have to answer, and the debate raging in her brain refused to let her sleep.

She tried desperately to relive her happiest moments with Fitzwilliam: evenings spent embracing at Halgian, walks in the garden, their first Christmas together, their first time making love on their wedding night… But in all of these thoughts, Darcy would intrude. She could not think of her home without thinking that _Darcy’s_ generosity had made it possible for them to live there. She could not think of Christmas, for that had been at Pemberley, and the time when she had first begun to feel a deeper regard for _Darcy_. Even their wedding night made her think of him, for it had been at Netherfield, and it had been _Darcy_ who had brought Bingley back to Jane and allowed for them to stay there. It was not that loving Darcy made her love Fitzwilliam any less, that was not where her guilt lay; rather, it was the fact that she thought about any man at all, particularly her husband’s cousin, while still loving her husband as dearly as she ever did. She didn’t understand how it was possible, but she finally had to acknowledge that she loved two men, in different ways, the second with an ardour at least equal to that for the first. It disturbed her, and she hated herself for it.

Long after the ladies had retired, Darcy sat in his library, coat, vest, and cravat discarded, sipping thoughtfully on a brandy. He allowed himself the pleasure of reliving his dance with Elizabeth, the feel of her delicate fingers in his. He could still smell the delightful scent of her hair and hear the sparkling sound of her laughter. From this memory, it was a small step to imagining her scent on his pillow, her laughter as they talked and held each other after making love, the feel of her delicate fingers on every inch of his body. This was torture; the way she had looked at him, her sweet blush, had convinced him once and for all that his love was not unrequited, and yet he could not have her. Each day he felt his heart break into smaller and smaller pieces with the knowledge that she would never be his. With one large swallow, he drowned his sorrows in brandy and poured himself another. Halfway through the emptying of this one, he heard the library door open and someone enter. His breath caught in his throat when he realised that it was Elizabeth, and he jumped to his feet.

'Eli… Mrs Fitzwilliam!' he forced himself to say.

Elizabeth gasped in surprise. 'Mr Darcy! You frightened me!'

'My apologies, madam, I was surprised myself.' He felt his mouth go dry as his eyes took her in. She wore a thin robe over her nightgown, and her hair tumbled loose over her shoulders. Despite the warmth of the room, the tips of her breasts were firm and visible through the gauzy fabric. The image was too similar to his dreams; it took all his will power to stand still. Elizabeth, too, was having a difficult time keeping her composure when she realised that he was clad only in shirt, accentuating the masculine arms she longed to feel around her, and breeches whose rapidly increasing tightness belied his growing arousal.

'I am sorry to invade your privacy. I will merely take my book and return to bed.' He only nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Tearing her eyes from his form, Elizabeth turned to the shelf to get the book she was seeking. Unfortunately, it was just beyond her reach; she stood on the tips of her toes but could not quite grasp it. Darcy quickly strode over.

'Allow me,' he said as he reached over her to get the sought-after book. She was so close he could feel the warmth emanating from her body. He knew that he should step away, that this was terribly improper, but he could not help himself. 'Here you are,' he said softly, handing her the book.

'Thank you,' she choked out. Then she made her fatal mistake: she lifted her eyes to meet his. Not even the strongest will could hide the depth of her emotions. Darcy saw the struggle within her, her reason battling her heart, and at that moment he knew that she loved him. His heart swelled with bittersweet joy, and in a sudden impulse, he drew her into his arms and embraced her tightly. She was at first too surprised to react, but before long she escaped his arms. 'Mr Darcy, please!'

'I am sorry, so sorry, my dear lady. I know not what came over me,' he replied sadly. 'Please forgive me.' She nodded, unable to think ill of him for exercising an impulse she shared. Touching his hand lightly, she whispered good night and smiled. This was too much for him. He gripped her hand tightly. 'I love nothing in the world so well as you, Elizabeth!' he cried.

She stared at him in shock. Surely her ears had betrayed her! It was one thing to _feel_, to have hidden thoughts; it was another to speak them aloud, to form the words that could not be unsaid. He said he loved her! That thought echoed inside many parts of her body before she could make complete sense of his words, and when she finally did, her surprise was no less intense. The face that looked back at her spoke not of love, but of intense pain. 'Do not look at me so! Surely this is not so great a surprise!'

'Indeed, sir, I knew nothing of it, and I think it better that way,' she lied, her voice trembling. 'I am a married woman, and you should not be making such declarations to me.'

'I would not do so if I did not know that you love me too!' She stared at him with wide eyes. 'I can see it, Elizabeth, the struggle within you. You love me as much as I love you! I know it!' He gripped her arms tightly. 'Let me love you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth… love me in return!'

'Mr Darcy! You are asking me to betray my husband, your _cousin_! He is at war, risking his life, and you talk of adulterous love!'

What he saw in her eyes obliterated the meaning of her words. Honour, loyalty, propriety were defeated by a mere glance. Right and wrong, good or bad no longer made sense to him. There are moments in which reason amounts to nothing at all. He replied in the only manner he could. He took her in his arms and passionately kissed her.

First Elizabeth tensed; she did not return his kiss, nor did she push him away. Then, for a moment, she allowed herself to indulge in the pleasure of his lips, tilting her head to allow him better access, arching her body against him. Suddenly, she remembered herself, and pulled away forcefully. 'How dare you!' she cried and slapped him hard across the face. Darcy put his hand to his cheek, shocked back into reality by the sting of her hand.

'My God! I am so sorry, Elizabeth!' he pleaded in shame, stumbling away from her. 'Please, please forgive me! I beg you!' And with tears falling from his eyes, he ran from the library. Elizabeth could do nothing but stare as he disappeared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Consequences, hand wavey war injury stuff, medically improbable sex, and get the tissues ready!

Darcy awoke early the next day fearful of seeing Elizabeth. His behaviour had been absolutely irresponsible, unjustified, and unpardonable. He had taken advantage of her in a weak moment, and he would likely suffer the consequences the rest of his life. Perhaps he would never see her again… he shuddered at the thought. A life bereft of her was no life at all. Still, today it was probably best that they be apart, so he dressed quickly and left the house to conduct estate business long before the ladies were up and about.

When Elizabeth awoke, the same feelings of dread filled her. Darcy had seen through her mask last night, had seen the love she felt for him, and this left her more vulnerable to him than ever. Her lips still burned from his fiery kiss; she could not help thinking that she had never felt such intense passion with Richard. Just the touch of his hand around her waist when he had pulled her close had left her breathless. She could only imagine how she would react when… _if_ he were ever to touch her more intimately. When she at last went down to breakfast, Georgiana informed her that Darcy had left early and would likely not return until late. This news brought relief and disappointment, but she knew this was the best way. The events of the library were still too fresh on their minds to allow for much interaction. She tried as best as she could to keep herself occupied throughout the day and not think of him.

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, an express came addressed to Elizabeth. Her heart froze with fear when she saw that it came from France.

_Mrs Fitzwilliam,_

_I regret to inform you that your husband, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, has been injured in battle in the Pyrenees with Lord Wellington’s army. He was moved with the army to a hospital in Gascony in the hopes of transporting him to England, but I fear that passage in military ships is impossible at this moment, and his condition has deteriorated to a point where it is no longer safe to move him. He asked that you be informed of his condition and that you inform whomever you see fit. I am sorry, madam, but it is unlikely that he will survive this injury._

_Regretfully,_

_Major G. Stokes_

As the words sank in Elizabeth felt another dread fill her soul. She may soon be a widow, that was bad enough. However, she realised that she may also not see her husband again before he died. Her ability to go to France was entirely dependent on Darcy, and after her violent rejection of him the night before, she was certain that he would not be of a mind to help her get to her husband. And yet, she knew Darcy to be a generous man; had his behaviour thus far not proven this? Surely he would not deny her some assistance. Still, if an inducement were required, she could bring herself to offer it. She had to get to her husband, no matter what the cost.

Darcy did arrive late that evening, after ten o’clock, and went straight to his chamber. He had tried to exhaust himself with his work, but nothing had kept thoughts of Elizabeth at bay. As he slid into his bath, he let the warm water envelop him and soothe his pain. He stayed until the water began to turn cold, then dried off as best he could and put on his robe to sit by the fire a while. So deep was he in his thoughts that he barely heard the soft knock on his door. He stood in confusion, not knowing who it could be at this hour. When he opened the door, there, to his great surprise, stood Elizabeth, dressed as she had been the night before.

'Elizabeth!' he whispered. 'Are you unwell?' She made no reply but stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She took in the sight of him in only his robe and felt her heart pound; she had not expected him to be so undressed.

'Mr Darcy,' she whispered, walking slowly towards him, 'I must speak to you. I…' she could not bring herself to speak the words about Richard. In fact, she found it difficult to speak his name at all. 'I must apologise to you for last night,' she said hurriedly instead. 'I am sorry to have treated you so ill.'

'Please, Elizabeth, it is I who should apologise. I said such things… please, do not trouble yourself any longer.' He gently took her hand and led her to the settee.

'You are too kind, sir. As much as I wish to agree with you, it would be a lie to say that I had not desired it as well.' She blushed and could not look him in the eye. 'What you said of me was true.'

Darcy could not believe his ears. Elizabeth was here, in his bedroom, admitting that she desired him, loved him. But why? Could it be that she… the beat of his heart grew faster as he realised why she had come. Tentatively, he reached out and touched her cheek, tilting her chin up so their eyes met. With the other arm reaching around her waist, he pulled her close and gave her the gentlest of kisses on her trembling lips. Her sigh encouraged him to deepen the kiss, his fingers reaching into her hair and combing through her curls. No longer able to contain her own longing, Elizabeth threw her arms around his neck.

Darcy began to kiss her neck and face with the fervour of passion long-denied. Her treacherous body responded with a desire that matched his own, revelling in the feeling of his hand on her skin. He reached up to cup her breast, eliciting a soft moan from her throat as he caressed her with surprising gentleness. With kisses along her shoulder, Darcy pushed one thin strap of her nightgown down to her arm, completely lost in the sensations of her soft body against him. Elizabeth could not deny that her desire for Darcy surpassed her desire for Richard by leaps and bounds, and with this thought her heart began to ache with guilt. _Richard… he would die if he knew of this betrayal_… Despite the pleasure of Darcy’s touch, she felt the tears begin to fall. Darcy sensed the tension enter her body, and reluctantly pulled away. The look on her face shocked him. It was obvious that she did not want this.

'Elizabeth, why are you here?' he asked, stepping away from her.

'I’m sorry, Mr Darcy… I can’t!' she sobbed, and threw herself on the floor. 'I received a letter today… Richard is wounded, and I must go to him.'

'I repeat… why are you here?' he asked, unable to feel anger but only a deep sorrow. He felt as if a dagger was being twisted into his heart.

'I… I had not intended for this to happen, I came to ask you to take me to France. But when you began to kiss me, I could not resist you. How could I, when I feel for you as I do? And I thought perhaps… perhaps if I… perhaps I could persuade you…' She could not complete her confession, the shame of it too great to reveal to him.

Darcy sat on his chair dejectedly. 'I am mortified that my behaviour has led you to think you had to do this to get my help. I assure you it is unnecessary. I would do anything for you, whenever you need me, without condition or price. My love for you is without condition or price,' he added softly. 'Where is he?'

'At a military hospital, on the Golfe de Gascogne. He is too hurt to be moved, but they fear he may not recover and have asked for my presence.'

He nodded. 'I shall make the arrangements at once. Go to bed, I will send for you when I have news.' Her eyes shone with gratitude, love, and admiration for this man who gave so unselfishly, even when it meant giving up that which he most wanted. She stepped over to the chair and stood over him, her hands on his shoulders.

'Thank you, Mr Darcy… you know not what this means to me… what _you_ mean to me. I _knew_ you would require nothing of me, I did know,' she whispered tearfully.

He put his arms around her waist and cried into the folds of her nightgown. 'Please forgive me, Elizabeth, all the wrongs I have done you… especially for loving you, for that is something I shall never be able to take back!' he sobbed.

She leaned over and kissed the top of his head as she cried with him. 'If you will forgive me for loving you back,' she replied. They held each other this way until the tears stopped, and Darcy finally forced himself to pull away.

'Thank you for comforting me, Mrs Fitzwilliam,' he said, reminding himself of his duty to his cousin. 'I will dress and begin planning our journey at once. Try to sleep for a few hours.' She nodded, disappointed that he had returned to the more formal appellation, but knowing it was right to do so.

'Good night sir. I thank you again, a thousand times over.' With one last glance over her shoulder, she disappeared into the corridor, leaving both to wonder how something as profoundly wrong as their betrayal of cousin, friend, husband, could feel so intensely natural and right when he put his arms around her?

**********

True to his word, by the time Elizabeth was at breakfast the next morning, an express was already two hours on its way to Dover to inquire about passage to France. A few days later they had their reply: a ship bound for Médoc (to serve the illegal and very profitable trade) left in a week, and from there they could hire safe land passage to Southwest France along the coast. Darcy called Elizabeth to the library to share the news with her.

'Can you be prepared to leave by sunrise tomorrow, Eli…Mrs Fitzwilliam?'

She took his hands and kissed them gratefully. 'You may call me Elizabeth sir,' she whispered. 'Yes, I can. Thank you.'

He closed his eyes and stepped away from her. 'Then we shall leave at that time.' He paused and took a deep breath, as if gathering strength, before continuing. 'Clearly I must accompany you, and we may each take one personal servant, but we shall basically be travelling alone. You have my word that you can trust me not to take advantage of you during this journey. I realise that my behaviour last night… and the night before were absolutely unpardonable, and I apologise. I promise that it will not happen again.'

'Mr Darcy, please, you are hardly the one to blame. Do recall that _I_ came knocking on your door in the middle of the night and allowed, I dare say _invited_ such… familiarities.'

'Believe me, Elizabeth, I will recall the particulars of last night for a very long time,' Darcy replied, his voice straining. 'But I swear to you that I will not lose my self-control again. You have no reason to fear me.'

'Do you really think that I am afraid of you? I know that you would never harm me or force yourself upon me. You proved that last night. At my slightest sign of hesitation, you pulled away and honourably allowed me to walk away from the situation. No, sir, the only things I fear are my feelings towards you, and my absolute inability to control them. In all my thoughts I betray my husband… I do not understand how either one of you could love me,' she confessed, the weight of her tormented mind at last forcing the tears to fall fast and hard. Darcy debated within himself for a moment, then again gave in to his heart as he took Elizabeth in his arms to comfort her.

'Elizabeth, you are a beautiful, extraordinary woman. I do not understand how any man can _keep_ from loving you,' he whispered as he stroked her hair. 'I am to blame for your confusion; I have done everything in my power to become a man you could love, and I cannot say I do not at least partially rejoice in my success. I beg you, think on me no more… Richard needs you, he deserves you, he earned your love and your hand. I have only tried to steal it.'

Elizabeth laughed through her tears. 'I think we will never agree where the blame lies, sir. Let us agree to share it and be done.' She stepped away and extended her hand in truce. He took it gratefully. 'I should go pack I suppose. Thank you again Mr Darcy, for everything.' She embraced him warmly, kissed his cheek, and left the library.

**********

The journey to France was as uneventful as a trip during wartime can be. They were fortunate enough to have good winds and fast land transport all the way and were able to procure separate chambers in all but one inn. Despite Darcy’s furious berating, the innkeeper could do no better than to offer a single chamber for Darcy and Elizabeth, and the servants had to sleep in the carriage. Darcy had gallantly offered Elizabeth the bed, promising to wait until she slept to even re-enter the room, so he remained in the public room of the inn for as long as he could.

He removed his jacket, vest, and cravat, reasoning that if Elizabeth were to awaken, at least she had already seen him dressed that way before. He then sat in the large stuffed chair across the room from the bed and watched Elizabeth sleep for the better part of the night, longing for her, picturing her in his arms. She was exquisite with her hair sprawled out on the pillow and all her worries temporarily erased from her brow. To his dismay, the night was warm, and Elizabeth unconsciously kicked off the covers, leaving her lying on the bed in only her thin nightgown, the same that he had seen not even a fortnight before in his own chamber. With chagrin he found that the memory combined with the vision before him was too much, and his excitement was reaching the point of pain. Though guilt-ridden and disgusted by his actions, he felt that there was no other escape from his torment: he unbuttoned his breeches and found his release as quickly and quietly as he could. Elizabeth still slept, his momentary passions were relieved, and disaster was averted.

So it was with honour intact and one day ahead of schedule that Darcy and Elizabeth arrived on the outskirts of ____, where the military hospital was located. He swiftly located the man in charge and arranged to have them in to see Richard immediately. As they walked through the hospital, Elizabeth tried to shut out the grisly images of the terribly wounded soldiers, and hoped Richard was not suffering nearly as much as they.

'Colonel Fitzwilliam, you have a visitor,' said the doctor jovially. The young officer had become a favourite of his for his continued good humour despite his dire prognosis. Each day the colonel had become more drawn and pale, however, and he feared there was not much time left.

'Who might that be doctor? I’ve told you, I’m a married man, no pretty young French girls for me!' Fitzwilliam laughed in reply.

'No, not exactly…' The doctor nodded towards the unseen visitor and stepped out of his patient’s line of vision just before she reached him. Fitzwilliam sat up, his eyes wide and quickly misting over.

'ELIZABETH! Elizabeth, my love, is it really you?' he cried out, arms extended.

Elizabeth flew into them sobbing. 'Richard, I received a letter, I had to come see you! How I’ve missed you!' They held each other for several moments, murmuring endearments, exchanging kisses.

'How ever did you get here?' Richard asked at last. Elizabeth kissed him again, then turned her head and nodded to where the doctor was standing and speaking to her travel companion. 'Darcy?! He brought you here?' Elizabeth nodded. 'Then I am yet again in his debt. Darcy! Come here old man!' Darcy strode over and shook his cousin’s extended hand. 'I understand that I have you to thank for bringing Elizabeth to me. You do not know what it means to me,' he said gratefully, his voice choking with emotion.

Darcy brushed him off. 'Fitzwilliam, I have been speaking with your doctor. I’ve informed him that I will arrange transport for you, and we shall all return to England together. You can receive far superior medical attention in London. Hopefully we will leave on the morrow.'

'Thank you, Darcy,' Fitzwilliam replied weakly. 'I appreciate your help.' Darcy smiled, then returned to the doctor to make further arrangements. 'Elizabeth… I don’t think I’ll be returning to England with you.'

'Of course you will Richard! You cannot stay in this awful place… it is only making your health worsen. When we reach London you will have better physicians, and…'

He stopped her mouth with one finger. 'My love, I am dying.' His words sank her heart like lead weights. 'My leg was badly wounded by a bayonet, and I was not found for two days. It became infected, and the doctor says the infection has spread to my blood. The only way I am returning to England is in a box.'

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him and resumed her weeping. 'No… no, it cannot be so hopeless! Surely there is something that can be done!'

He shook his head, attempting to soothe her with soft kisses. 'Don't cry, my heart… I’ve resigned myself to it. My only regret was that I would not live to see you again. And now, here you are… more beautiful than I remembered. I admit, it is harder to be resigned with such an inducement to live.' He tried to be light-hearted, but nothing could remove the solemnity of this moment.

Darcy returned then, easing some of the tension. 'Very well, Fitzwilliam, you shall come with us to the inn tonight. We will take along a nurse who can care for you. In the morning we board a ship that will take us directly to Portsmouth, and thence to London. With any luck we shall be there in a few days.' Fitzwilliam nodded; Elizabeth looked at Darcy with a look of utter gratefulness. The arrangements were made, and within the hour the three of them and a nurse were leaving the hospital. 'I have arranged a room for the two of you, with the nurse’s room next door and mine beside that,' Darcy explained when they arrived at the inn. 'Do not hesitate to call if you need either of us. Goodnight.' He bowed and turned to go, but Fitzwilliam reached for his hand to have a private word.

'Darcy… wait. Please allow me to thank you again, for all you have done for me. I don’t just mean today, but always. I wish for you the same happiness that your generosity has allowed me to have. And… you have my blessing, when I am gone, to achieve that happiness as you must.'

Darcy turned away uncomfortably. 'Your blessing to be happy? Well, thank you, Fitz, but why would I need your blessing for that?' he laughed weakly.

'Darcy, I’m not blind,' Fitzwilliam replied softly. 'I’ve seen how you look at her. You shall be able to take better care of her than I ever could presume to. I know you love her… she deserves to be loved like that always. I had hoped that I would be the one to do it, but I could only have a brief time. Just… just do not let her forget me entirely.' Here he broke down and could speak no more.

'Richard, I…' Darcy began, but was silenced with a wave of Fitzwilliam’s hand.

'Please. Just let me have said it and take it to heart. Good night.'

'Good night,' Darcy choked out as his cousin called back the nurse to take him to his room.

'There you are, Richard,' Elizabeth smiled as the nurse helped him over to her. 'I was wondering what had become of you!'

He kissed her gently. 'I had to speak with Darcy for a moment. Thank you, Miss Smith, that will be all for tonight. I will not need the sleeping draughts.' The nurse curtseyed and retired to her own room. 'God how I have missed you!' he cried to his wife, embracing her tightly.

'And I you, my love.' After several minutes of fervent kisses, Richard pulled away and stroked her cheek.

'Will you lie with me tonight Lizzy?'

She frowned with concern. 'Are you strong enough? I would not wish to make you more ill.'

He nodded. 'Please. I need you.' She replied with a feathery kiss that soon grew more ardent. He gloried in touching her again, feeling the soft skin and delicate curves he had so pined for during their long separation. He pushed her nightgown up past her waist and over her shoulders to reveal all of her. He spent a long time just looking at her, memorizing each delicious inch of her. The long nightshirt he wore for easier changing of bandages could not hide his aroused state, and Elizabeth silently removed that last obstacle between them.

'Oh Richard… how I have missed you!' she cried, holding herself against him to feel his bare skin on hers. He squeezed his eyes shut in a vain attempt to block his tears.

'I’ve missed you so much, Lizzy… you have no idea of the hell my life has been since leaving you. You are my everything. I love you so much,' he whispered before capturing her lips in a passionate kiss. 'Elizabeth… I do not have the strength to… my love, you will have to lie astride me.' She placed herself above him; he nodded to signal that he was ready, and with enticing slowness she slid down his length.

Their lovemaking was not extended or thrilling, but it brought both of them a sense of peace and completion that they had been missing since the day Fitzwilliam’s ship had left England; Elizabeth wept as she reached her peak. And for the first time in months, her mind remained free of Darcy.

**********

Sometime in the night, Elizabeth heard a strained voice calling her name. She turned to see her husband’s pale face, eyes wide with fear. She knew: he was dying.

'Lizzy… I am so thankful I was able to hold you again. You have made me the happiest man alive from the moment you accepted my proposal. Thank you for making my life so wondrous.' His breathing was laboured, and each word seemed to pain him.

'Richard, please, you can’t give up now,' she sobbed.

'I am so sorry… I am so sorry to leave you already. Promise me that you will go on. If you do not, I will come back and haunt you!' he teased. She laughed weakly. 'Elizabeth, I want you to remarry,' he said with all seriousness. 'You are too young and have too much to give to remain a grieving widow for the rest of your life.'

'No, Richard, please do not speak so.'

He silenced her with a kiss. 'Promise me Lizzy. Remember when you promised to love, honour, and obey? This is where the obey enters. Please promise me.' Elizabeth nodded, clasping his hands tightly and kissing them over and over. He smiled and relaxed. 'Now that that is settled, let us go back to sleep.' He closed his eyes, and soon his breathing was slow and even. Elizabeth cried herself back into a deep slumber. When she awoke, she was a widow.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we reach the end. I can't thank you all enough for your wonderful comments as I've reposted this story after so many years. I've read and cherished every one even if I'm completely rubbish at replying to them. I hope you enjoy the ending and thank you for sticking with me!

Darcy awoke in the morning with a strange feeling that something was terribly wrong. When he heard Elizabeth’s weeping, his suspicions were confirmed.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam! Are you unwell?' he called out, knocking on the door. Elizabeth threw it open and collapsed into his arms.

'He is gone… he is gone…' she whimpered. He called for the nurse, who confirmed Elizabeth’s statements. With characteristic strength and efficiency, he had his and Elizabeth’s things prepared, a doctor called, and arrangements for removal of Fitzwilliam’s body, all in under two hours. Elizabeth could only sit in a trance while the flurry of activity buzzed around her. The cost of the preparations and transport of the coffin were tremendous, but Darcy would not hear of leaving him in France; he insisted that his cousin be taken to England to be buried at Matlock. In the end, they were able to board the ship they had originally planned to take for their return and were back in England in a fortnight.

During the voyage, Darcy and Elizabeth kept a respectable distance from each other, but did manage to resolve a few business details that could not wait. Most important was the issue of what to do with Halgian. Darcy insisted that Elizabeth could remain at her home, and he would no longer charge her anything; Elizabeth was adamant about vacating it.

'Elizabeth… Mrs Fitzwilliam, please. I insist that you keep it. Where else will you go?' he begged her in frustration.

'I do still have a home at Longbourn, sir, and at Netherfield as well, I am sure. I cannot stay at Halgian without paying for it, and I have not the means to do so. Therefore, I shall leave it,' she replied shakily.

'But why? Why will you not accept it as a gift?'

'As a gift?' she snapped. 'And what do you suppose will be said of that Mr Darcy? What will the ton make of it when they find that I stayed at your home when my husband was at war, that we travelled together- unchaperoned- to France, where my husband died, and then returned home where I became your kept woman in the house my husband and I used to share? Worse still, how can I defend myself against such charges, when so much is true?'

He gaped at her, unable to hold back the anger slowly building inside him.

'My kept woman? Elizabeth, have you not yet realised that I would never expect anything from you, of that nature or of any sort?' Elizabeth tried to interrupt him, but he grabbed her roughly by the arms and stared at her with such intensity that she felt he might bore a hole right through her. 'I LOVE YOU! Do you know what that means? I do the things I do to assure your happiness, and for no other reason, particularly not for expectation of some reward! For God’s sake, have I not proven that to you yet?' he asked with exasperation, releasing her and storming across the cabin.

Elizabeth crossed her arms and tried to control her temper. 'Mr Darcy, from our first meeting I was intent on misunderstanding everything about you, but today I believe you have surpassed even my prejudice. I am trying to protect us, protect _you_ and Georgiana, from malicious gossip. And after what has happened between us, how could we avoid the blushes of guilt that would seem to others as confirmation?'

'I… I had not thought… I am so sorry, Elizabeth. I am not thinking clearly. But it is not widely known that I own Halgian. The deed was made up in Fitzwilliam’s name, there is no reason why any should doubt that you inherit his property. My solicitor will handle everything, and I am certain that my aunt and uncle would help with the upkeep of your household if you would prefer that I do not have a hand in it. Or I could-'

'Mr Darcy!' Elizabeth interrupted. 'Please stop. I thank you for your generosity, but I cannot stay at Halgian. I was happy there, yes, but the memories… it is too painful, sir, please do not ask me to stay there alone.'

At last the tears she had been holding back fell from her eyes. A whole campful of soldiers could not have prevented Darcy from taking Elizabeth into his arms at that moment, and she gratefully accepted his gesture. He unconsciously began kissing her hair as she cried, whispering soothing words of his love for her.

'I would never force you, my dear. In this as in all things I will respect your wishes.' She murmured her appreciation and dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief as he gently pulled away and began pacing. 'Most of the other business matters must wait until we return to London and read Richard’s will. I expect that he has left all of his possessions to you, as there are no children…' His words trailed off as Elizabeth blushed and lowered her head.

'That is not yet certain sir,' she replied quietly. Darcy quickly did the sums in his head, figuring that it had been at least seven, nearly eight months since she had last lain with Richard, unless…

'Oh, I see.' Elizabeth knew that they would not be able to continue their discussion now and declared herself tired and wishing to sleep. He bowed and left the room without another word, unkindly leaving Elizabeth feeling guilty about having been with her own husband before he died.

The remainder of the voyage passed with little interaction between Darcy and Elizabeth. She thought he was angry with her for having shared Richard’s bed; for his part, discovering that she had done so made him recall that she was not truly a free woman, and to be near her now would be to take advantage of her vulnerable state. Neither one was able to correct the other’s mistake.

They arrived in London on the twenty-fourth of October; Elizabeth thought it best to stay with the Gardiners this time, and Darcy did not argue with her. Darcy handled everything that needed to be done, and by week’s end they were at Matlock for Richard’s burial. Elizabeth had already done much mourning but could not hold back the flow of tears when his body was lowered into the ground and the blessings said. She remained at his graveside until her father-in-law gently pulled her away.

It was decided that Elizabeth should stay at Matlock for a few days before returning to Hertfordshire. Darcy, however, decided to return to Pemberley the day after the funeral. Before his departure, he approached Elizabeth alone one last time. He met her in the gardens during her morning walk and fell quietly in step with her. The silence was not broken for a long while.

'Elizabeth,' he said at last, anguish over what he had to say evident in his voice, 'I am returning to Pemberley today. I am not likely to leave there for some time. It may be many months before we see each other.'

Elizabeth nodded, but her tears belied the calmness she tried to portray. 'What have I done to earn your censure?' she asked sadly. 'Surely you cannot still blame me for having shared one final night with my husband.'

Her words shocked him. _Is that what she really believes? _'I have never blamed you for that. It was your right. Why would you think I censure you?'

'You have been so cold since then… I did not know what else to think.'

'I have tried to keep my distance out of respect to you. It would be wrong of me to remain as intimate with you as I had been when you are in mourning and may be carrying Richard’s child.'

She shook her head. 'I am not with child.' Relief washed over him upon hearing those words. _She does not carry his child… she will never carry another man’s child…_ 'I am afraid I may be unable to conceive.' He took her hand to comfort her. 'I am sorry, I forget myself. Please, continue what you originally intended to speak about,' she said quickly, embarrassed to have shared such a personal confession with him.

'As I said, we may not see each other for several months, not because I wish it, but because it is best. You must mourn, and my presence will not help you make peace with Richard’s death. But,' he hesitated, 'I would like to ask permission to call on you when you are ready to see me again.' His eyes searched hers for some sign of approval.

'Ask me again in autumn of next year, sir,' she replied. 'My heart is not yet my own with which to reply to such a suit.' Disappointment struck him like an arrow. He had expected to spend five or six months away from her at most, not an entire year. But how could he deny her? It would be dishonourable to go against her request. He bowed to her and kissed her hand.

'Until next autumn then madam. May God bless you.' With one final gaze, he walked away. Elizabeth fell to the ground and wept.

**********

Elizabeth’s return to Longbourn went far more smoothly than she had anticipated. Perhaps because it reminded her of their own precarious situation should widowhood befall her, Mrs Bennet seemed to have been struck by the seriousness of her daughter’s situation and was much more subdued than usual. All of Elizabeth’s personal belongings had been sent ahead of her from Halgian; she had been there one last time to say goodbye to the staff, choose which items would go with her and which would stay to sell with the house, and to relive the happy memories of the short time she and Richard had shared. It had been difficult. She could not even bring herself to spend the night but had begged to return to Matlock immediately afterwards.

Soon after Elizabeth’s not-so-joyous homecoming, Jane announced that she was with child, just over three months along. Elizabeth was obviously overjoyed for her sister, but also became depressed about her own condition. She desperately wished that she could have been carrying her husband’s child so part of him could live on. Hoping to ease Elizabeth’s sorrow, Jane asked her to come live with the Bingleys at Netherfield to help with the confinement and, later, the baby. Elizabeth gladly agreed. She had not been there long, however, when one morning Bingley bounded into the breakfast room with a larger-than-usual smile on his face. He happily waved a letter in front of his face.

'Jane! Lizzy! I have wonderful news! I have found an estate in Cheshire! The sellers have accepted my offer, and we may take residence as soon as we wish!' Jane jumped out of her seat as well to kiss her husband. They had both been chafing under Mrs Bennet’s constant attentions and had begun looking for a new location a few months before. The change would be very welcome. Elizabeth, however, looked less than pleased.

'Lizzy, what is wrong?' Jane asked with concern. 'Surely you do not blame us. You know how mother can be sometimes.'

Elizabeth forced a smile. 'No, Jane, I do not blame you at all. I am just not looking forward to going back to Longbourn and not having you to run away to!'

Jane looked at her as if she were insane; the thought of leaving Elizabeth to the mercies of Mrs Bennet had never crossed her mind. 'Oh Lizzy! You must come with us! I am going to need your help, and I cannot bear to leave you here alone! No, you must move with us! Please, Lizzy,' she pleaded.

'Are you sure I would not be interfering? I do not wish to be a bother.'

'Nonsense Lizzy!' Bingley interrupted. 'I must insist on it. Not only will your presence be of great comfort to my dear angel,' he paused to look adoringly at his wife, 'but you will also be able to provide me with diverting company! Really, you must come!' Elizabeth happily agreed.

The New Year saw them in their new home: Myle Park, a beautiful estate with a house smaller than Netherfield but grounds much larger, nearly four miles around. _Plenty of places for solitary walks of penitence_, Elizabeth noted. Then it hit her: Cheshire was the county neighbouring Derbyshire. They could not be at all far from Pemberley… and Darcy. 'Charles,' she asked with as much equanimity as she could muster, 'how far would you say we are from Pemberley?'

'Why, it cannot be more than thirty miles I am sure! Is that not grand? We shall be able to see Darcy and little Georgiana far more often now!' Elizabeth forced a smile, but this news did not comfort her. Knowing she was only a few short hours away from the site of her infamy and from _him_ only reminded her of all that she wished to forget.

Over the following months of Jane’s confinement, Elizabeth’s healing began. She began to come to terms with her loss, but nothing seemed to erase her guilt. She was certain that nothing could; her mind was seared with the vision of Darcy, the wild look in his eyes before he kissed her in his bedchamber. Worse yet, the image still had the power to arouse her, which in turn caused her to be disgusted with her weakness. It was only helping Jane that kept her from retreating completely into her thoughts and going mad.

The birth of little Charles Richard Bingley, healthy and strong, with a mop of curly blond hair like his father, brought new light into three lives: Jane and Charles were obviously thrilled to be new parents, but in the birth of her nephew, Elizabeth also felt a strange fulfilment and comfort, the circle of life coming around again.

Unfortunately for the Bingleys, however, mild misfortune struck in June. An infection of some sort began affecting the cattle and seemed to be spreading through the county. Concerned and unaccustomed to country concerns like this, Bingley wrote to Darcy asking for his advice and inviting him to come to Myle to inspect the problem personally. Bingley sincerely hoped Darcy would accept; he had thus far declined every invitation, claiming one or another flimsy excuse of estate business, and causing Bingley some concern.

Darcy had long been wrestling with the question of whether or not to visit Myle Park. Bingley had betrayed Elizabeth’s presence in his first letter, and Darcy was not prepared to break his promise to her. It had been about nine months since Richard’s death, and he was aching to see her, but was deathly afraid of it at the same time. He had had much time to reflect on his behaviour and decided that she had every right to despise him. In his view, he had purposely tempted and seduced her during her stay at Pemberley, driven her to betray her husband, and rejoiced in his success. If she slapped him the instant she saw him again, he would not be surprised or insulted; he almost desired it as punishment for his errant ways.

When Bingley’s letter arrived explaining the situation with the livestock, however, he knew he had to go. This infection could possibly affect his own estate and those surrounding him, and his own discomfort with seeing Elizabeth could not take precedence over the welfare of hundreds of people. He replied to Bingley and made arrangements to leave in a week.

Bingley was overjoyed to receive Darcy’s acceptance, and read the express aloud at supper that evening.

_Dear Bingley,_

_I ought to have replied immediately upon receiving your letter. Though your description of the situation is not very clear - but that is hardly a surprise - what I could understand is enough to alarm me. I have heard and read of similar accounts in this region and I am seriously worried that it may indeed be a contagious infection, in which case all the cattle within miles are at risk. I believe you are right in suggesting that I should personally assess the damage, hence I am accepting your invitation. I shall be arriving at Myle Park on Monday a seven-night hence. Georgiana asks me to convey her regards to Mrs Bingley and the baby, to which I add mine. _

_FD_

Elizabeth did not know what to make of the information in the letter. One moment she desperately wished to hide, safe from _him_, far from _him_; the next she had to resist the impulse to grab the paper from Charles’ hands and admire his hand. She did not dare lift her eyes from the plate in front of her, while she moved her food from one side to the other, forgetting to take it to her mouth. The mouth that had kissed _him_... the mouth that had betrayed her husband. As soon as she could, Elizabeth made some excuse and retired. In the solitude of her bedchamber she allowed the tears to fall.

The months of solitude provided by her widowhood had been an opportunity to meditate upon her past actions. Her reflections were not pleasant ones. Shame and guilt were constant companions, and the tumult of Elizabeth’s mind was not allayed by the information that she would have to face the only other human being who knew her true nature. She had not mentioned the secrets that so heavily weighed on her conscience to anyone. Prudence forbade it. She could not burden Jane, her father, nor anyone else for that matter, with the evidence of how unworthy she truly was. No, that was a load she had to carry by herself.

To these feelings of guilt, others, even more shameful ones, were added. Elizabeth no longer dared deny that she was subject to her own desire. She saw herself as an unchaste, lewd woman, a slave to her feelings… feelings that she had long before realised were dominated by love for the man she would have to face so soon. To the rest of the world she appeared to be a lady; to the rest of the world she was supposed to have been a good, faithful, loyal wife. She had played that part well to the rest of the world, but Darcy knew her better: she was no lady, she was a whore. He could not, he would not, love her… How could he? He, the epitome of kindness, of goodness, of honour, why would he love her? She was merely a daughter of Eve… wanton woman, wench… and he knew it.

Her scandalous behaviour prior to Richard’s death was insurmountable, in her opinion. All love was lost for her: Richard’s love had been lost with his life; Darcy’s love was impossible. Still, in her heart she kept them both, and that, the world told her, was wrong, it was not love. By having too much love, she was divided by guilt, and being left alone, loveless, was the certain result of that equation. Everybody knows that such things are precise, certain, predictable. The world was right: to love and desire a man other than her husband was wrong and reprehensible. She would be punished for her actions. How could it be any different? Don’t we always get what we deserve?

She promised herself that she would behave well and under no circumstance have any sort of private conversation with Mr Darcy. The admission of her weakness would be her strength, she was told herself. She would have read _Fordyce’s Sermons_ if she could have gotten her hands on one. She was still crying when she fell asleep.

**********

Darcy approached Myle Park with not a little apprehension. Elizabeth was there; it would be impossible not to see her. Still, he was resolved to do his best to respect her wishes and stay away. Without being uncivil, he would avoid her, particularly when she was alone. This visit would be short, he decided, so it would not be too difficult. Then perhaps he would return in a few months to see if there was any chance that they could at least be friends. Yes, that was all he could hope for now, and he would not blame her if she did not even trust him that far. But God, how he missed her!

'I think I hear the carriage!' Bingley cried, jumping from his chair and running out of the dining room. Elizabeth ran out too, but in the opposite direction, escaping to the gardens to keep from seeing Darcy just yet. With any luck she could avoid him until supper.

Perhaps aided by his own desire to be near Elizabeth, Darcy arrived much sooner than he had predicted, and found the residents of Myle Park still engaged in their morning activities. Charles welcomed him as profusely and sincerely as only he could. The others were not to be seen. Darcy apologised for his lack of punctuality. Determined to ease the disturbance that his arrival prior to the preparations for his stay were complete, he informed Charles that he would just change out of his travel clothes and then go for a walk to allow the servants to finish preparing his room. Now that the moment drew closer, fear of his encounter with Elizabeth made him wish to search for some composure outdoors.

He refused Charles’ offer to accompany him and took the directions to a little isolated grove he had seen from the road. Half an hour later he realised his mistake; he had trusted Charles was able to give _accurate_ directions around his own property. Had he been concentrating on trying to find his way to the grove instead of trying to find the right words with which to greet Elizabeth it may not have happened, but as it was, Fitzwilliam Darcy was lost in the woods. He retraced his steps, at last finding a path that led to more open space and followed it.

Elizabeth, meanwhile, had been wandering around for nearly an hour, her mind occupied with thoughts that could only distress her. So complete was her distraction that she did not see the man himself until they literally collided.

Darcy did not know how it happened. He simply felt the impact and reacted instinctively to it… and Elizabeth was in his embrace. At first his arms enveloped her to protect her from falling; then, they remained there, around her, because there was no other place his arms would rather be. She did not pull away immediately, revelling in the safety and comfort of his strength, his smell… but the magic could not last long, and she extracted herself from his hold.

'Mr Darcy!' she exclaimed, her eyes lowered.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam!' He had been shocked to find that the path he had followed led to the very object of his reverie; he almost thought she must have materialized out of thin air into his arms. 'Are you well? I am so sorry for running into you, I was distracted.'

'I am well, thank you, sir. I did not expect to see you. I…'

'…thought you could avoid me by coming out for a walk?'

Elizabeth gave a rueful chuckle. 'Yes indeed, sir.'

'I confess to the same idea. Unfortunately, we each seem to have forgotten the other’s fondness for solitary strolls. I believe this is the third time we have met this way, is it not?' he said with a nervous smile, endeavouring not to sound as unsettled as he felt.

'I think you must be right. Perhaps Fate is trying to tell us something,' Elizabeth replied light-heartedly, but blushed when she realised how her statement must sound. Sensing her discomfort, he quickly changed the subject.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam, I would like you to know that I am only here because this business with the livestock could affect many people, including myself, and I must assess the damage. Until now I have declined all of Bingley’s invitations, but this visit was unavoidable. I will try to make it as short as possible.' Elizabeth turned away, her suspicions confirmed; he despised her and wished to avoid her. 'I hope you will forgive me for disrespecting your wishes of not seeing you until the autumn.'

She looked up at him in bewilderment. _My wishes? He still respects my wishes? _'Oh… yes, of course. I perfectly understand, sir. There is no need to apologise.'

Relieved, he took her hand and kissed it. 'Again I must thank you for your generous forgiveness of my trespasses, Mrs Fitzwilliam.'

My_ forgiveness of _him_?_ Her eyes met his, their faces only inches apart. She felt the familiar tingling of desire when she felt his breath on her face, and again she felt ill with the shame it caused her. 'Please excuse me,' she whispered in a strangled voice, and ran back to the house, leaving Darcy to curse himself for having pushed too far.

_How could I have insinuated myself on her so soon? Dammit Darcy, you really are a beast. You do not deserve her forgiveness._

_Have you no shame?_ Elizabeth rebuked herself as she wept. _He was being kind and gentle, and again all you could think of was kissing him! You truly are an intemperate wench… he could never want you…_

As much as Darcy wished he could have left in a few days, the business with the animals would keep him in Cheshire for at least a month. The infection was a serious one, and the farmers needed all the help they could get to keep it from spreading. Fortunately, though, he was able to stay out in the fields for most of each day, and he was so fatigued in the evenings that he retired soon after supper. He and Elizabeth did not have many opportunities to speak alone, partly due to his conscious avoidance of her. He was afraid to speak to her again, knowing how she must distrust his ability to maintain his composure around her. He sought only one opportunity of speaking to her, to apologise for his behaviour on the day he arrived. Learning of her habit of taking a morning stroll, he went out early one week after his coming and walked the grove for some time in the hope of meeting her; he was finally rewarded for his patience when she came around the bend.

'Mrs Fitzwilliam!' he called out. 'Please, I must speak with you.'

'Yes, Mr Darcy?' _Now he will tell me that he never wants to see me again._

'I have two things to request of you, madam, though I am not worthy to receive either one. First, I must ask for your forgiveness once more: when we met in the garden the other day, I made you uncomfortable, and I deeply apologise.'

She closed her eyes and began to laugh. Once again, they had misinterpreted each other; when would they learn to communicate their feelings before jumping to conclusions? 'Mr Darcy, I have spent every moment since then scolding myself for my conduct that day. You did nothing wrong and need no exoneration.'

'I do not follow you. You were beyond reproach.'

She shook her head. 'I will not argue with you, sir, but believe me, I was not. Now, what is your other request?'

'I… I would like your permission to call on you in the autumn.'

'Of course, sir. You may visit me whenever you wish.'

He began pacing, every few steps looking at her with agitation. 'I do not wish to visit you. That is, I wish to visit you, but not just to visit you. I wish to _call_ on you. As a gentleman. I mean, I am already a gentleman, but as a gentleman caller… who calls on a lady.'

She vainly attempted to hide her grin behind her fan. 'You may call on me in whatever manner you wish, sir. But I do agree that it is preferable if you are the gentleman and I am the lady, rather than the reverse.'

He laughed, relieving some of his tension. 'I really am a bumbling fool. What I am trying to say, very inarticulately, is that I wish to call on you, not as family or as a friend, but as a suitor. But I want to know if I will be welcome if I come as such.' His eyes were frantic with uncertainty; hers were wide with surprise.

_He still loves me? After all that has happened, he wants to court me? It cannot be, there must be something else to this. _'Mr Darcy, I hope you do not feel obligated to do this because of what happened between us at Pemberley. I assure you, it is unnecessary.'

'You mean the library and… whatnot?' She nodded. 'No, not at all! I mean, yes, but no. I know my conduct was reprehensible, and honour dictates that after taking advantage of you I should marry you, but that is not the motivation behind my request. I think you know how I feel; I know it is too soon, but can I ask for a small ray of hope if there is any chance that you may receive my suit?'

'I am sorry, sir, I am too amazed to think clearly right now. I… I need time before I can reply. Please forgive me.'

His face was a mask of desperation. 'You cannot even tell me if I may return once I leave?'

She wanted so desperately to say that she loved him, that she wanted to be with him and marry him, but she could not tell him this while he was still a guest at Myle. Instead, she panicked. 'I am sorry, I must beg to be excused.' For the second time she ran away from him. He was inconsolable; how else could he take this but as a final rejection? No, she had made herself very clear. She wanted nothing more to do with him, and he would have to live with that decision for the rest of his life.

**********

As the days passed, Elizabeth searched her soul for the answers she desperately needed. She also watched Darcy grow more drawn and sorrowful, and she knew it was her indecisiveness that made him this way. She wished desperately to speak with him, but he was avoiding her like the plague; every time she found him alone, he would bow and take his leave, never even allowing her to say word one. She began to give up hope after a fortnight of this game, resigning herself to his apparent rejection.

Darcy felt as though he were slowly slipping into insanity. He wanted so much to express his feelings, but Elizabeth had shown that she did not wish to know them. His only solace was to write her letters revealing the contents of his heart; letters she was never meant to read. They soothed his heart ever so slightly and kept him sane one day at a time. As he was finishing his latest letter, Bingley came bursting into the library, claiming his immediate attention for an emergency concerning one of the cows that now appeared to have died of the infection. As a reflex, Darcy signed, sealed, and addressed the letter simply _Elizabeth_ and left it on the table with the other letters bound for the post. He did not even realise his folly until they were already a mile from the house, and it was far too late for him to turn back. Now all that could be done was hope that no one would see the document until he returned to destroy it.

But Fate at last decided to give the lovers a turn of fortune; Elizabeth had a letter to write to her father and sat down at the very desk Darcy had recently occupied. She wrote her missive, but before she could add it to the pile bound for the post, she saw her name on the letter at the top. _This was obviously placed here for me to find._ She took the paper and hurried to her room to read in privacy.

_My beloved,_

_I know you want nothing to do with me, but I am as unable to hide my love now as I have always been. I know I have done nothing to earn your love; indeed, I have done more to hurt you than anything else. But I hope you know that everything I have done was in the hope of providing you with even a small amount of the happiness you deserve. You once told me that you loved me… I hope there is still enough left of that happy emotion to allow you to absolve me of the sin of adoring you until my dying day. Unworthy creature that I am, I still think of you every waking moment. Forgive me my love, my desire, my complete devotion to you. I love you my dearest Elizabeth, and always shall._

_Your ever constant servant,_

_Fitzwilliam Darcy_

She read, reread, memorized, and engraved in her heart each word from Darcy’s pen. It was so much more than she deserved, so much more than she had ever dreamed. Now was the time for her to show him that all was forgiven… that she loved him in return… that all she wanted was him.

He returned from the fields that evening filthy, hungry, and exhausted. He left his apologies with Bingley and had his supper taken to his room. He bathed and half-dressed again, thinking that he might go for a midnight walk. For the moment, though, he sat by the fire and tried to empty his mind.

After supper, none of the others were in the mood for entertainment and retired early. Elizabeth waited an hour to be certain that Jane and Bingley were safely ensconced in their chambers before leaving her own room and heading for Darcy’s.

With a deep breath, Elizabeth turned the handle and opened the door. He didn’t turn around at first; he sat in a chair in front of the fire, dressed only in shirt and breeches, barefoot, attractively dishevelled. She could not remember him looking so desirable.

'William,' she whispered as she closed the door, 'I need to talk to you. I know you’ve been avoiding me, but there are things that need to be said.' Darcy’s throat dried as he watched her walk over to him, looking so very similar to that night, before Fitzwilliam’s death, when she had offered herself to him. He forced himself to swallow, and he knew that he could no longer hide from her.

'You are right, Elizabeth, I have been avoiding you. I just cannot bear it any longer; I cannot bear having you here, so close, seeing your smiles, knowing you once loved me in return, but also knowing that you shall never be mine! I can only take so much pain!' he cried, turning away from her to face the fire. 

She reached for him, putting a hand on his shoulder. 'Why do you think I will never be yours?' she asked innocently.

'You love Richard; you mourn for Richard,' he replied softly, his anguish obvious. 'You made that very clear the other day. What sort of man would I be to take advantage of your vulnerability?'

Elizabeth shook her head, a little sigh escaping her throat. 'Richard has been gone for a year… and with you to give me strength, I am no longer vulnerable.' She ran her fingers through his unruly curls, trying to stay calm. 'I thought I told you long ago that I loved you… did you not believe me then?' He stayed silent. 'Well, believe me now. I love you, William. I love you, and I want you. Now. Tonight.'

He slowly turned his head and gaped at her in disbelief. His eyes were tired, the exhaustion of his emotions wearing him down. 'Elizabeth, please… don’t tease me now.'

She continued to stroke his cheek, then leaned over and placed a soft kiss on each of his eyes. 'No teasing, William,' she promised, 'not tonight.' With these words, she began to run her hands along his chest, slowly moving down and pulling his shirt out of his breeches. 'I will need your cooperation for this sir. Kindly lift your arms.' He obeyed her without a word. She lifted the shirt over his head, then removed her own dressing gown. 'You are beautiful,' she sighed as she leaned in and kissed his neck, shoulders, chest. Suddenly she felt his strong arms grasping hers and pushing her away.

'Why are you doing this? I cannot stand another rejection, Elizabeth!' he sobbed and broke down in her arms. After a few moments, his tears slowed, and he became vehement. 'I do not want to be your lover! I want you, all of you, forever! Marry me, Elizabeth, or condemn me to death, but do not leave me in this purgatory.' It was now her turn to be stunned.

'Do you really think I would toy with you this way? Of course I will marry you! That is all I have wanted for so long!' As her words sank in, the despair in his eyes slowly turned into the deepest joy he had ever felt, and Elizabeth saw just how well the expression of heartfelt delight became him. She opened her arms and he flew into them, holding her tightly, not moving… just breathing in her scent, relishing that he could do this at last. Then, slowly, he pulled his face back so he could rest his forehead against hers, and with all the tenderness in his heart, placed his lips on hers.

Elizabeth Bennet Fitzwilliam had lived through many things, but nothing had ever affected her as deeply as her first kiss since becoming a widow. She had loved her husband, that could not be denied, and had even felt passion for him; however, the love she felt for the man now in her arms was beyond anything her mind could fathom. Had he rejected her… well, it did no good to dwell on that now. He had not rejected her. He was in her arms, and they would be damned if any circumstance forced him out of them again. She was free to be his, and his she would be.

His lips sought out the gentle slope of her neck, tasting each delicious inch of her skin. His warm breath made her tremble and ache for him to bring her completion. The feather-light touch of his fingertips explored all her curves, not yet pausing to arouse her, but discovering all that she had to offer, all that he had been missing and desiring for so long. She would intermittently whisper his name, reassuring him of her presence and need of him. They remained this way for some time, just holding each other, sating their emotional hunger before satisfying their bodies.

It could not be too long, though, before they began to press more tightly against each other, before Elizabeth’s softness so close against him began to affect Darcy’s body as well as his heart. She felt him harden against her, and she arched herself against him further to make it clear that he was not the only one whose desire was beginning to flame. Done with her neck for the moment, Darcy returned to her mouth, capturing it with a new ferocity that spoke of his growing passion. She matched his ardour, bringing her hands from around his neck to around his waist so she could better enjoy his bare torso. He, meanwhile, moved a hand to her shoulder, slowly sliding one thin strap of her nightgown down one arm, then the other, but still held them so the garment would not fall. He forced himself to pull away so he could look at her and released his grip.

None of the thousands of fantasies Fitzwilliam Darcy had had about Elizabeth compared to the real article now before him. He had grown accustomed to being breathless around her, but this time he was certain that his lungs had collapsed completely; he had to force himself to start inhaling again. In tearful reverence, he dropped to his knees to worship before her.

'You are a goddess,' he murmured into the smooth skin of her belly. She ran her hands through his hair, relishing every moment of feeling the roughness of his day-old beard rub against her waist, her stomach, and her hips as he kissed his way down her form. She was surprised, but not at all shocked or disturbed when he separated her legs and tasted her with the veneration of a devotee at his most sacred temple. He did not linger long; his yearning was beginning to overflow, and he needed to feel his own nakedness converge with hers. He stood, staring into her passion-drunk eyes, and removed the last of his clothing. Elizabeth watched him, awed by the beauty of the man before her.

'Magnificent,' she whispered, reaching out to touch him in the way he had so desperately coveted. Her name tumbled from his lips in a strangled sigh. 'I love you,' she mumbled as she wrapped her arms around his waist. Nothing had ever felt as perfect as this entwining of their limbs and souls, skin to skin, naught separating them but the thinnest layer of air.

With perfect precision of movement, they stepped towards the bed together until they finally tumbled onto it. Barely a word, and none of consequence, was said between them from the moment they reached it. Everything that needed to be said was conveyed through their eyes and hands. Elizabeth’s mind was reeling from the delicious feeling of Darcy’s caresses, fuelled by passion long denied. Save for a few throaty cries urging him on, she was completely incoherent… but Darcy understood every moan as only a lover can, using the flush of her skin to guide him in his attentions. When he entered her at last, all of the pain he had suffered since that fateful day at Rosings disappeared into the warmth of her flesh. She was his, truly his. The culmination was almost an afterthought for him; his soul had already been freed.

_The next day…_

'Uncle Edward, there is something I must discuss with you.'

Lord Fitzwilliam looked at his nephew confusedly. He had never seen Darcy so disconcerted. 'Certainly William. Please go on.'

Darcy looked at his uncle grimly; he was not looking forward to this. 'As you may know, I have been a guest at Myle Park these last weeks. Uncle Edward, I have been fortunate enough to earn the favour of your daughter-in-law, and I intend on making her henceforth your niece.' _Damn… that sounded much more clever in my head._

This was indeed unexpected; he had not so much asked permission, but declared his intention to marry Elizabeth, in typical Darcy fashion. The information made Lord Fitzwilliam uncomfortable, but it did not seem there was much he could do to interfere. 'And what have I to do with that? It seems that you should speak to the lady about it.'

'I have. But I wanted to inform you of my intent, as she was married to your son.'

'And your cousin,' his uncle reminded quietly.

Darcy narrowed his eyes. 'Believe me, I know he was my cousin. I have lived with the guilt of loving my cousin’s fiancée, then my cousin’s wife, and now my cousin’s widow. But I loved her before she was any of those things, and I will be damned if I do not seize my only opportunity for happiness. I am sorry if you do not approve, but at this point the world’s opinion means nothing to me.'

Lord Fitzwilliam rose and shook his nephew’s hand. 'Very well, Darcy. Just promise me that you will treat her well; she is very dear to me and has already suffered much for one so young.'

'I know sir,' _much of it at my brutish hands_, 'I shall dedicate my life to her happiness.' The gentlemen embraced and Darcy returned to Pemberley to prepare for the imminent arrival of a new mistress.

**********

'Really, Lizzy, pacing back and forth will not make his horses go any faster,' Jane teased. She achieved her desired effect: Elizabeth blushed and sat down.

'I am sorry, Jane. I am simply concerned about this weather. Poor Mr Darcy may be caught in the rain.'

Jane smiled knowingly and shook her head. 'Lizzy dear, how long do you plan to continue this charade?'

'Whatever do you mean Jane?' _Oh no, have I been so obvious?_

'My dear sister, you need not be ashamed of liking Mr Darcy. He is a very good man and has been a good friend to you. Now perhaps he shall be something more?'

Elizabeth took her sister’s hand and looked at her earnestly. 'Jane, I have been in love with Mr Darcy for some time now. He has gone to visit his uncle my father-in-law today, and I believe it is to inform him that we are to be married.'

Jane stared at her sister in astonishment. 'You and Mr Darcy are to be married? He proposed and you accepted?'

'Yes, he has, and I have Jane. I plan to marry him as soon as may be. I hope you do not blame me.'

'No Lizzy, you deserve to be happy again, and if you love him you should marry him. But society may frown on such a hasty courtship,' she warned.

'I know… but the only opinions that matter to me right now are yours and his. Society may think what it will.'

Jane hugged her sister tightly. 'Then I wish you well, my dear. Listen, I think I hear the carriage.' Elizabeth smiled and ran to the door.

Darcy stepped out of the carriage with a light heart, patting his jacket pocket where his mother’s favourite necklace was resting in its box. He hoped he would see Elizabeth soon. _Perhaps I should go for a walk… that always seems a good way to meet her_, he thought mischievously.

'Mr Darcy!' He looked up at the door of the house and there she was, looking radiant and, most importantly, happy to see him. He threw down his cane and hat and ran to her, not stopping until she was in his arms.

'Elizabeth,' he murmured into her hair. Pulling the necklace from his pocket, he whispered, 'This is for you.' The words just came out; he had not intended to be so plain about it. He had written and practiced a seven-minute speech extolling her virtues and beauty, giving her a history of the necklace in his family, and finally clasping it around her neck in a flourish of classical romance. As he held her, though, somehow this seemed much more appropriate. Undaunted by the abruptness of his application, Elizabeth pulled away slightly to look him in the eye.

'I love you,' she replied, simply and directly. The words were music to his ears. With a smile of pure joy, he leaned in and kissed his future wife.

_Epilogue_

London society was astounded when only a month later, Mr and Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy were announced at the first ball of the season, and even more so when it was discovered that they had married barely two weeks after becoming engaged. There were whispers and rumours, all of which were ignored by the couple. It was the only ball they attended that season, for the rest of the winter was spent at Pemberley.

Georgiana was overjoyed that her friend had become her sister and welcomed the new mistress with open arms. Elizabeth’s worst fear, the rejection of her former mother and father-in-law, was allayed when they were the first to call on the new couple at Pemberley with their best wishes.

The day she was told by the midwife that she was with child, Elizabeth asked Darcy to take her the short distance to Matlock and leave her alone at Richard’s grave. It was the first time she had been able to go since the funeral, and the emotions it evoked overwhelmed her.

'My dear Richard,' she whispered, caressing his headstone as she spoke, 'I hope you have forgiven me for betraying you, and for neglecting you all this time… I have never stopped loving you, and I never shall.' Her tears fell freely as she poured her heart out, explaining all that had occurred from the day he left for Portugal. 'And now I am with child, Richard. I am sorry I was not able to give you such a gift, but I hope you will love and watch over your niece or nephew as you would have done your own child. Please bless and protect this child as I know you bless and protect me.' She tenderly kissed the stone marker and stood. 'I love you.' Finally at peace, Elizabeth rejoined her husband to return to Pemberley.

Exactly two years after the death of his namesake, Richard Fitzwilliam Darcy was born.


End file.
